What It Means
by Reika
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER tears... Sequel to It's Only Love! I told you it'd be here soon.
1. Extra Extra! Boy Who Lived On The Market

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, if I did….you'd better believe the books would be *really* slashy. But they aren't…so I don't. i.e., don't sue me.   
  
A/N: As promised my dears…here is your sequel. I was really overwhelmed with the positive response to the end of It's Only Love…I really thought there'd be death threats. Thank you guys so much for your support and reviews. Thank you, as always, to Jasmine.   
  
Weeeeeell…..here goes our second installment in the saga….   
  
  
  
Chapter 1…………………Extra Extra! Boy Who Lived On The Market!   
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It had been two months since the Hogwarts graduation. Since he was alone, Harry feared the time would pass slowly. Luckily, he kept so busy that the time seemed to just fly by. With his path to the future free of debris, Harry had reviewed his options carefully as to what to do now that he was out in the real world. He narrowed the choices down to two. He could be an auror, a noble position, of course…but Harry felt he had been surrounded by darkness of one kind or another for far too long. Or he could play quidditch. He loved the game…and he was damn good at it too. He'd had several offers since even the beginning of his seventh year from several teams. After his little announcement at graduation, a few of the offers were rescinded, out of bigotry of some form or another. However, most of the offers had even doubled in their promises, as they all wanted the even *more* famous Boy Who Lived to play for them.   
  
After deciding that, yes, he wanted to be a professional quidditch player, Harry found an apartment in muggle London. The rent was cheaper, the flat was bigger, it had electricity (a definite muggle plus) and he could escape the wizarding world when he came home this way. He had a blast moving in and shopping for all the new furniture to go into his very first home of his own. He'd taken half of his money out of his Gringotts account and had it converted to pounds, then set up a muggle bank account…as he couldn't very well buy furniture in London with galleons.   
  
Hermione had opted to stay at Hogwarts and continue her studying as an assistant to McGonagall. Ron had, uneventfully, taken a job with the ministry. The duo both had a fair amount of time before they set out to their separate paths, and Harry had enlisted them to help with the embellishment of his home. Hermione had seemed enthusiastic, chatting with Harry about carpet colors and draperies…while Ron lagged behind the two, carrying bags and mumbling under his breath about how Harry really *was* gay….   
  
When it came time for his two best friends to leave, Harry wished them well, but knew that they would continue to see each other a great deal. Harry was very pleased with his flat; it was…homey. Nice…but not too nice. He didn't want to feel bad about putting his feet on his own table. He had photos adorning every available surface, so that those he loved could smile back at him from every room in his house…except the bathroom of course, *that* would just be creepy.   
  
His new job as a professional seeker had gone great so far. The team had been very happy to have him and everyone seemed to have a great attitude. He had gotten along fairly well with everyone. The team was still in practice mode, as there were a good few months before any actual games, and Harry had taken quite a liking to the team's keeper, Paul Thomas. The brawny man had been the first to welcome Harry, and had managed to make him feel at home right from the beginning. Harry had even been invited to dinner with Paul and his wife, who was a rather plain looking, but very witty woman.   
  
And now, two months after Harry Potter officially left the closet for the real world, he was content. He couldn't lie and say that he wasn't lonely at times…but it was bearable. He'd had *quite* a few offers since his announcement, most of which were so forward, it was all Harry could do not to run screaming. A few of them were…intriguing…but he didn't really think he was ready just yet. What filled his heart with joy, though, was that since that fateful day, he'd had a number of wizards, young and…not so young…approach him and tell him his courage had inspired them. Finally, the boy with the glasses and piercing green eyes was happy to be The Famous Harry Potter.   
  
On a Tuesday night…just like any Tuesday night…Harry sat lazily on his couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He still had the days practice clothes on, but he wanted to relax a bit before showering and changing. With a glass of water by his side, he languidly flipped through the channels on the telly, waiting for his take out to arrive. He was just about to go into the kitchen and have a pre-meal snack when he heard a knock at the door.   
  
"Finally" he mused aloud and swept up some money to pay the delivery person.   
  
No sooner had he opened the door when a hand pushed it the rest of the way open and a person that was *not* delivering food barged into his apartment.   
  
"Paul…what are you…?"   
  
The larger man plopped himself down on Harry's sofa and began rambling off, slurring his words every now and then. The only parts Harry managed to catch clearly were "through with…stupid broads…always right…well *excuse* me…."   
  
Harry sat next to his new friend and tried to comfort the obviously inebriated man. He awkwardly patted him on the back.   
  
"So…what happened?"   
  
And Paul began his tale of marital woe (something having to do with the toilet seat). After he had finished, Harry assured the man that he could stay with him and sleep it off. Paul grabbed Harry up in a crushing hug, knocking the former Gryffindor's glasses crooked and leaving him gasping for air. The drunken man leered at Harry a moment before opening his liquor fouled mouth.   
  
"I stink Harry…do you have mouthwash and another shirt?"   
  
Harry pointed to the bathroom. "Mouthwash is in there…but Paul….my shirts won't fit you. They might if you wanted to go to a gay bar…but if you *aren't* keen on baring your navel…you're out of luck."   
  
Paul chuckled, realizing Harry was right and simply removed his sweaty shirt and headed for the bathroom to rinse out his mouth. Harry fixed him a large glass of water to help flush out his system and handed it to him as soon as he reemerged from the bathroom. The other man already seemed a bit more coherent. Harry handed him the money for the food that was on its way and headed to take a shower.   
  
While Harry finished his shower, Paul heard a knock. He grabbed the money Harry had given him and answered the door, not taking into account his shirtless state.   
  
On the other side of the door, again, was not food…but a rather striking blonde boy who whipped around when he heard the door open. The blonde smiled briefly, but the smile faded when he realized who he was looking at…or rather…who he *wasn't* looking at.   
  
"I'm sorry…I must have the wrong flat…."   
  
Paul turned to see Harry just coming out of the bathroom with but a towel draped around his waist. He called over his shoulder.   
  
"Harry…I think it's for you…."   
  
Harry walked over to the door, holding the towel up with one hand, still expecting to see food. When he got beside Paul and peered out the door he was, to say the least, shocked. After all…it's not every day you find a dragon on your doorstep.   
  
"Draco…."   
  
Draco looked up at him nervously. "Hi…."   
  
Paul, realizing he had no place in the current conversation, retreated back into the living room and to his glass of water.   
  
Harry's shock soon gave way to anger. "What are you doing here?"   
  
Draco looked a bit taken aback by the cold tone of Harry's voice.   
  
"I'm sorry…I didn't have anywhere else to go…"   
  
Harry sighed. "Fine…wait here."   
  
He abruptly closed the door in Draco's face and stomped off to his room to dress himself more appropriately. He realized after the third time he put his shirt on backwards that he was more than a little nervous about what was waiting for him on the other side of his front door.   
  
After finally managing to dress himself properly, Harry took a deep breath and counted to ten before heading to the door. He opened it, half expecting Draco to have gone, but no…he sat in the hallway, with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up. When he heard the door open, his head jerked up and he smiled magnificently at Harry who cursed the Malfoys for having such good genes.   
  
Tentatively, Harry sat down across the hall from the blonde and eyed him for a moment. He noticed a fairly deep gash across Draco's cheek that had only just stopped bleeding. He exhaled slowly and steeled his resolve.   
  
"So…what happened to you then?"   
  
Draco met Harry's eyes and began his tale.   
  
"Well…I suppose it's like this…"   
  
*******************************************************   


*FLASHBACK*   
  
After two months of preparation…the night had finally arrived. The Manor had been beautifully decorated and the younger master of the house was impeccably dressed.   
  
The Parkinsons arrived with their only daughter, Pansy, right on schedule for night of sociality with the Malfoys. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco gathered in the sitting room to wait for their guests to be ushered in. Malfoy senior eyed his son carefully who was wringing his hands and chewing on his bottom lip. This would not do.   
  
"Draco, may I have a word with you in my office before our guests arrive?"   
  
Draco was surprised by his Father's request, but nodded his head in the affirmative.   
  
"Yes sir."   
  
Lucius turned his attention to his wife who, as per usual, sat coldly staring back at him.   
  
"Narcissa, try to keep the company entertained until we come back…it shouldn't take long."   
  
The woman nodded and poured herself yet another glass of brandy.   
  
Once upstairs in Lucius' office, the older man told his son to take a seat while he stood by the window.   
  
"Are you nervous Draco?"   
  
Draco nodded.   
  
"That's quite understandable…I was nervous when I went through this myself, but you have to remember…you are a Malfoy, and there is no room for hesitancy here. You do like Pansy, do you not?"   
  
Again Draco nodded. "Yes, sir…I do like her….but I don't love her."   
  
Lucius laughed a hearty laugh which took Draco by surprise.   
  
"My dear boy…what does love have to do with anything?"   
  
Draco blinked. "But I thought…"   
  
"Obviously you are still young and entertaining silly romantic notions."   
  
In his surprise, Draco found himself doing something he had never done before…questioning his Father.   
  
"So you expect me to live my whole life next to a woman I don't love? I'm not even attracted to her…I'll be miserable."   
  
Again Lucius laughed.   
  
"Why Draco, you are even more innocent than I was at your age. I *do* expect you to marry Pansy. She will make a good wife. She has a good name, and she will look good next to you, as well as produce you a fine heir. As far as attraction goes…well…what you do in your free time is your business."   
  
Draco was shocked at what he thought he was hearing. His Father was always so illusive in his wording…one could never tell *exactly* what he meant.   
  
"Are you saying…but I thought…you and Mother…"   
  
Lucius fixed his gaze on his son. "Have you ever met your mother, Draco? The woman isn't what one would call…passionate. However, she has made a good wife and remained loyal all these years…although, that last part could be due to her inherent frigidity."   
  
Draco felt like he would be sick. He hadn't thought of his parents as mushy or romantic…but he had always thought that *somewhere* deep down, they loved each other. He found himself questioning whether or not his Father had ever even known love.   
He was jolted from his reverie when Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder.   
  
"You'll be fine…you are my son. It's your destiny."   
  
Still quite shocked, Draco nodded and followed his Father out of the office and back downstairs where his future wife and in laws awaited him.   
  
The six purebloods relocated to the dining hall where an enormous dinner was served. There was much talk between the Parkinsons and Lucius while Draco concentrated on keeping his food down and Narcissa concentrated on her brandy glass. After dessert had been served, Lucius addressed the table.   
  
"I'd like to thank you for coming to our home and I believe my son has a small announcement he'd like to make now….Draco?"   
  
From his end of the table, Draco stood on shaky legs. He shook his head a little to try and clear the tunnel vision and cleared his throat after taking a long, slow, deep breath. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out the box his father had given him on graduation day. He turned to Pansy and opened the box. The girl looked up at him expectantly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Draco cleared his throat again and took another deep breath.   
  
Silence.   
  
After the silence had grown from unexpected to awkward, Lucius made a small coughing noise and when Draco turned to look at him, he glared at his son, his eyes saying 'get on with it'.   
  
After another deep breath, Draco spoke…his resolve like concrete.   
  
"Pansy…"   
  
Pansy smiled and held her breath for the moment she'd waited for all her life. Draco smiled at her and snapped the box shut. Before anyone had a chance to ask why, he slammed it onto the table and slid it down, back to his father who caught it with a murderous glint in his eye.   
  
"Pansy…" he began again.   
  
"Yes, Draco?" the girl asked tentatively.   
  
"Pansy….I'm gay."   
  
Mrs. Parkinson fainted, Mr. Parkinson immediately tended to his fallen wife, Pansy began to cry while Narcissa snorted and quirked a brow. Lucius stormed to Draco's end of the table and promptly grabbed him by his robes, dragging him back upstairs to the office.   
  
Once back upstairs, he brusquely tossed Draco into the chair he'd been sitting in before.   
  
"What the HELL do you think you are doing?"   
  
Draco flinched, as he had never seen his Father this mad at him before, still, he kept his head high and his voice strong.   
  
"What did it look like? I'm gay…"   
  
Lucius again fisted Draco's robes. "I couldn't care less what you think your sexual orientation is…I thought we discussed this…it doesn't matter. Now, you *will* go downstairs and fix this!"   
  
Draco looked his Father in the eye. "No…I won't."   
  
"And why not?"   
  
Still staring into the eyes of the man who raised him, the man he placed above all others, Draco held tight to his courage.   
  
"Because I don't want to be you."   
  
Lucius drew his hand back and held it there a moment, giving Draco the opportunity to speak.   
  
"Father, in spite of everything, you still have my utmost respect. Do not lose it by raising your hand to me. I am a man now…not a boy…I *will* hit you back."   
  
Lucius' hand fell limply at his side. The older man regained his composure and began to pace the room.   
  
"You do realize you have to leave now. I don't want to see you in this house ever again."   
  
"Yes sir."   
  
"I will not disinherit you…yet…as you may come to your senses, and you are my only heir. Had I known you would fail me…I would have broken the Malfoy tradition and replaced you. As it is…I am too old for that. Until you do come to your senses, you will receive *nothing* from me. Do you understand?"   
  
"I do."   
  
"And you still insist on denying your birthright?"   
  
"I do." Draco repeated.   
  
Not looking at his son, Lucius spoke as Draco prepared to leave.   
  
"If you see my son, tell him his duty awaits him."   
  
"Goodbye Father." Draco had to force the words out without sobbing.   
  
"And Draco…one more thing."   
  
"Yes Father?"   
  
"I do hope you realize…I do what is best for you. I also hope you realize I'm not stupid…give Mr. Potter my best."   
  
Draco's eyes went wide…he wanted to ask his Father what he knew…but now was not the time; and it was likely there would never be a time. With only his wand, Draco headed down the stairs to leave his family home…probably forever.   
  
"You disgusting little deviant!"   
  
Draco turned his head toward the insult and Mrs. Parkinson (who's four carot diamond ring had coincidentally turned around so that the stone faced the palm of her hand) graced his cheek with a harsh slap, slicing the skin open.   
  
If the plump woman thought her gender kept her safe from retaliation, she was sorely mistaken. Mrs. Victoria Parkinson had the privilege to be the first female Draco ever punched directly in the face. The blow knocked the woman back several feet and on her ass as well as breaking the skin on her cheekbone. Draco looked down at her and wiped the blood from his cheek. His voice was calm and controlled.   
  
"*Never* lay your hand on a Malfoy."   
  
Draco looked over to the window where his mother sat. She gazed at him a moment, her expression stoic and empty, before turning her head away to stare out the window again. Draco said his silent goodbyes to the Manor and finally left.   
  
"Draco!" a voice to his left called.   
  
Pansy. Great.   
  
"I suppose you want to hit me too?"   
  
The girl stopped a few feet from the worn out blonde.   
  
"No…I mean…I'm shocked…and I won't lie and say I'm not upset, but it's not really your fault…if I think about it. I wouldn't want you to marry me if you didn't love me anyways. Is this why you were so scarce the last few months of school?"   
  
Draco nodded.   
  
"Does this have anything to do with Harry Potter?"   
  
"That's none of your business."   
  
She scoffed. "Well…it's best if you stay away a while…our parents are livid…but after everything settles down…and it *will*, Draco….if you need anything, let me know, okay?"   
  
He smiled at her, remembering why she'd been his friend all his life. "Thanks Pansy"   
  
She kissed his cheek then, sniffled a bit and ran back to the house while Draco made his way out of the closet he'd been buried in for years.   
  
*END FLASHBACK*   
  
*******************************************************   
  
"So that's basically what happened…" Draco finished his story and turned to face Harry who looked more than a little surprised. After a moment, the raven haired boy leaned across the hall and embraced the blonde one loosely.   
  
"Good for you then."   
  
"Thanks…I'm sorry to have bothered you, it's just that I didn't have anywhere else to go. I heard you were living around here a few months ago. I have my own money from my Grandfather, but I can't get to it until the morning…then I'll leave you be, I promise."   
  
Harry stood and helped Draco to his feet as well.   
  
"Come on in. I already promised Paul the spare room for tonight, as he had a row with his wife…you'll have to take the sofa."   
  
Draco quirked a brow. "His wife? Heh….I thought…"   
  
Harry shot him a sidelong glare. "I know what you thought…and I was content to let you think it…but now you know. Sit down, I'll get something for that cut on your cheek."   
  
Draco sat down on the sofa and noted that the burly man from earlier had gone to bed. Harry came back into the room and sat beside him taking out some peroxide and a cotton ball.   
  
"I'm not so good with healing charms…sorry."   
  
Draco smiled at him. "That's fine. So….since that man, Paul was it?...since he's a friend…a married friend…is there…I mean…do you…"   
  
Harry harshly lapped the peroxide onto the wound causing Draco to hiss at the sting.   
  
"Am I seeing anyone? I hardly think that's any of your concern, now is it?"   
  
"I suppose not…" Draco answered while Harry placed a bandage over the cut.   
  
Harry got up and gathered a blanket and pillow for his unlikely guest and tossed them onto the couch.   
  
"There…I have practice early tomorrow, so I have to go to bed now. Goodnight."   
  
"Goodnight Harry…and thank you."   
  
Harry paused before entering his bedroom. "Draco?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"This doesn't change anything….but I am glad you're okay….goodnight."   
  
"Goodnight."   
  
*********************************************************   
TBC   
  



	2. A proposal So soon?

Disclaimer: Not mine don't sue.   
  
  
A/N: Thank you guys so much for the response to the first chapter. Please hang with me here…it's about to get interesting. I love you guys for reviewing…like I said, this is all me, so I need the feedback. Just a couple notes before we begin.   
  
If Michael confuses you, re-read chapter 3 of It's Only Love.   
  
And yes, before you ask in the reviews, Babylon is shamelessly stolen from Queer as Folk. I absolutely adore that club and weep continually that I don't have one here. Oh woe is me. If I can't enjoy it, H & D might as well. ^.-   
  
As always, mad props to Jasperina   
  
  
On with the show.   
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 2…………….A proposal?...So soon?   
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Draco Malfoy awoke for the 5th time since he'd fallen asleep on Harry Potter's couch. The usually spoiled pureblood had never slept on a sofa before and found himself unable to get comfortable. This time when he woke though, he noticed the sun shining in through the window.   
  
_'It must be morning'_ he thought groggily as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up to rub his sore back.   
  
He yawned and looked around the flat. He hadn't really had the chance the night before. It looked like…Harry. It smelled like him too, and it made him smile. Getting up, he walked into the kitchen and noticed a note addressed to him on the counter.   
  
_Draco,   
  
here is coffee in the pot and there are muffins wrapped up on the counter. I don't really know what you plan on doing today, but here is a key. I know what flat hunting is like here, and I doubt you can do it in a day. After today's practice, I have a long weekend, and I'll help you. If you need clothes, I left some hanging on the back of the spare bedroom door. My clothes should fit you. Feel free to take a shower. I'll be back around 6 this evening.   
  
HP   
_  
Draco sighed and made his way to the coffee pot. He had to look in three cabinets before finding the mugs, and when he did he sat down at the table with his black coffee and half of a muffin.   
  
He had no clue where to start. He assumed he needed his money more than anything…but what should he do with it? Did he want to live in the wizard world where he called home, or the muggle world where he could get *away* from everything he called home? If he wanted to live here, in London, what did he need to do with his wizard money? Groaning and banging his head on the table, Draco realized the one thing he did need to get through this…he needed Harry Potter. Harry obviously knew what to do about all this. But would Harry help him? Did he even deserve it?   
  
Throwing back the rest of the coffee, Draco headed for the shower. Once he undressed and slipped under the hot water, he instantly felt at least a little better. Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, he smiled as he recognized the scent…Harry's scent. He knew it quite well, having buried his face in the raven hair more than once. When he was all clean and dry, Draco went into the spare bedroom for fresh clothes. Hung on the back of the door was a nice pair of charcoal grey slacks and ribbed black sweater. He smiled again. These were clothes he had never even seen on Harry. They were probably a gift from someone...they definitely weren't the former Gryffindor's style…but they most certainly were Draco's.   
  
After he finished dressing and preening, the blonde swept the key off of the counter and finally set foot on the streets of London.   
  
**************************************************   
  
During the day's practice, Harry found that his mind was decidedly elsewhere. Between trying to figure out just what he was going to do about the blonde in his apartment, trying to catch the snitch *and* trying to fend off David, the chaser that had been…well…chasing him since he joined the team, Harry just wanted to scream.   
  
When they were finally given a break, the players all wandered off in one direction or another to make use of their personal time…all except Harry Potter. Paul noticed that Harry's usually impeccable game had been off and approached him from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. The abnormally tense Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.   
  
"Whoa…Harry, you alright?"   
  
Harry managed to calm down a bit. "Yeah…fine, sorry…last night was just…hectic."   
  
Paul smiled. "That blonde guy? He the one you've been moping about over since you got here?"   
  
Harry looked scandalized. "I have *not* been moping."   
  
"Sure…whatever you say…"   
  
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples…he could feel a headache coming on.   
  
******************************************************   
  
Midday had arrived and Draco had yet to accomplish anything. Unless sitting in a park and watching the muggles like they were animals in a zoo counted as an accomplishment.   
  
Draco looked out at the park again from his seat on the bench…nope…still no idea what he was going to do. He sighed and pushed his sleeves up, as the sweater was somewhat warm…even if it was rather enticing. Pulling his feet up to the bench and turning so that he could lie down, he flopped back onto the bench and lie there a moment, his blonde hair hanging over the side and swaying slightly in the breeze. He took a deep breath and decided to just go back to Harry's flat when he heard his name.   
  
"Draco?...Draco Malfoy?"   
  
Sitting up, Draco found himself looking into a face that, under normal circumstances might be vaguely familiar, but this one…this one was burned in his brain. This face had unwittingly changed his life.   
  
"Michael Cameron?...Bloody Hell!"   
  
The handsome man sat down next to Draco and placed his brief case on the bench.   
  
"What brings a pureblood like you out to muggle London then, Malfoy?"   
  
**********************************************************   
  
Around 6pm, Harry returned home, ready to crawl under his blankets and never reemerge. He was surprised to find that Draco wasn't there. The key he'd left was gone, so he assumed that Draco would be back.   
  
_'Where could he be at this hour?' _Harry thought, somewhat worriedly. Draco was generally unaccustomed to the muggle world, and Harry didn't want him getting lost or freaking out over anything.   
  
_'He's probably just out getting acquainted with the city'   
_  
Harry figured he should take advantage of the quiet and take a long, hot shower. When he finished, he stepped out of the bathroom, again, in only a towel, to find Draco sitting on his couch writing furiously. Harry cleared his throat to make his presence known and this made Draco look up at him. The blonde's pale face took on a slightly pink tint when he noticed Harry's attire…or lack thereof.   
  
Grimacing, Harry realized the same thing. "Just a second…" And he headed for his room to put on something less…towel like.   
  
When Harry padded back into the living room, Draco regarded him carefully.   
  
"Its 7pm Harry…why are you in your pajamas?"   
  
"I'm not going anywhere, are you?"   
  
Draco shook his head.   
  
"Well" Harry began "Might as well be comfortable, right?...What are you writing?"   
  
Draco patted the spot next to him on the couch, signaling for Harry to sit.   
  
"I went to the park today."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Yes. I sat there for hours…I didn't have a bloody clue where to go or what to do."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"And I ran into Michael Cameron…the bloke from my quidditch camp I told you about."   
  
"…oh…"   
  
"Well, we started talking and…" Draco stopped abruptly and took in Harry's sudden lack of enthusiasm. "What's wrong Harry?"   
  
"…nothing…finish your story…"   
  
"No…something's wrong…tell me what it is. Was I not supposed to use this pen?" Draco held the pen out for Harry to take it back. "I'm sorry…I only figured out what the damn thing was today…it's actually much easier than a quill…"   
  
"No, Draco, the pen is fine. Is there a point to all this, or did you just want to tell me that you met up with whatshisface?"   
  
Draco smirked. "Jealous…are we?"   
  
Harry looked away. "No."   
  
Draco was enjoying this far, far too much. "You lie…you are!"   
  
Harry snorted. "If there is no point to any of this, I'm going into the kitchen and finding something to eat." He got up to head for the kitchen, but Draco called to his retreating back.   
  
"Well if you aren't jealous, I'll give you all the details. I met up with him today and he shagged me right there in the park…bent me backwards over the bench…the pigeons looked positively scandalized…"   
  
Harry stopped midstride and turned. "Very funny…"   
  
Draco's smirk remained in place. "Oh calm down would you? He's been with the same bloke for a year now! Come back here so I can finish telling you what we talked about!"   
  
With a sigh, Harry complied. "I'm sitting…so talk."   
  
"Well, I told him my whole story…minus a few gory details mind you…and about my current problem of not knowing what to do with my money."   
  
"Okay…"   
  
"Well…turns out there are a lot of wizards with my problem. I told him about how I still want to redeem my family's name…with or without their help…I just don't know where to start. Michael went to Durmstang and now he actually does a kind of stock brokering for wizards."   
  
"Yeaahhh…."   
  
"It's a new day, Harry. There is so much to do, and the options just multiply if you're willing to combine wizarding business with muggle investments."   
  
Harry blinked. "So you're just going to give this guy your money?"   
  
Draco looked like he'd been slapped. "No…Harry. I'm rich…not stupid."   
  
"So what're you going to do then?"   
  
"Well…to begin with, he's going to draw me a proposal for some of the options I have. I'll need to find an accountant familiar with both the wizard and muggle economy, and a lawyer as well. And I'll go from there."   
  
Harry looked unimpressed. "A proposal…so soon?"   
  
Draco grabbed one of the couch pillows and whapped Harry in the face. "Oh shut up, you! I can still do it Harry…I can still do everything I wanted to!"   
  
Harry smiled…he was glad to see Draco so happy. He had been worried that the dragon couldn't survive outside of his cave.   
  
"I'm happy for you."   
  
Draco grinned. "Well I'm happy for me too."   
  
"So, what is it exactly that you wanted to do…and what are you going to do now?"   
  
Draco got up from his seat and proceeded to pace as he rattled off his plans (both former and future) to Harry.   
  
"Well…granted there has been a *slight* change of plans. I wasn't disowned though…I'm the *only* heir. That means I'm still a Malfoy. I figure I can increase the fortune and all that, and with Michael's help, do some business…maybe start a few charities…"   
  
If Harry *had* to be honest with himself, he had to admit that ever since Draco had shown up at his door, he'd been considering the possibilities of taking him back…but now…it looked like the former Slytherin would be off to bigger and better things. Harry had his own career now, and would be gone a lot once the season started. No matter how much Draco meant to him, their timing just always seemed…off. Nonetheless, Harry *did* care for him and knew that, as excited as he was, being thrust into London was going to be difficult for Draco. He made a snap decision.   
  
"That's great. Draco, look…it sounds like you're going to have a lot to do. You probably aren't going to want to find a flat until you're more certain where you'll be doing most of your business anyways. I have the spare room and you can stay here…if you want."   
  
Draco had to stop and think a moment. "Are you sure Harry, I mean…after…"   
  
"Yes, I'm sure. No matter what, I don't want you wandering around muggle London all by yourself."   
  
Draco thought over it a moment before answering him. "Okay…but only if you let me half the bills with you while I'm here…I don't like being in *anyone's* debt."   
  
Harry put his hands up. "Hey, fine with me…not all of us are *made* of money."   
  
Draco smirked and Harry was actually happy to see it. "I'm not made of money, Harry…you of all people should know that I am indeed flesh and blood."   
  
Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, heading for the kitchen. Draco could hear the banging of cabinets and random swear words coming from Harry's direction before the frustrated seeker came out of the kitchen and picked up the phone. Harry had expected Draco to be confused about the telephone, but he seemed to know what it was.   
  
"You're familiar with a phone?"   
  
Draco flopped back down on the sofa and crossed his arms. "I wouldn't say 'familiar' as I've never used one…but I am somewhat educated on muggle inventions…not *all* Slytherins are purebloods you know."   
  
"Oh…well…I'm going to order some food, but not from that last place…they never showed up last night. Do you want anything?"   
  
"No thank you…I ate earlier with Michael."   
  
Again Harry rolled his eyes, as a part of him secretly wished he could just lock Draco up in his flat so that no one else could ever have him.   
  
Later, after Harry had acquired sustenance, the two sat on the sofa somewhat awkwardly, watching television. For all the indifference Draco had shown the telephone, he seemed fascinated by the TV. Every few minutes he would turn to Harry and point out some horribly obvious fact as if it were a miracle. ("It's like a photo…but they *talk*!") And Harry would just nod and smile, and force himself not to pat Draco's head like a child. Harry considered Draco lucky to have such a distraction, as all he could think about was how weird it felt to sit next to the blonde and not touch him. Figuring the awkwardness wouldn't lessen any that night, he prepared to leave for bed and let Draco marvel at the telly.   
  
_'Maybe I'll save the remote for tomorrow…don't want that pretty head to explode.' _Harry thought with a chuckle.   
  
"Draco, when you want to go to bed, just press that red button on the set okay?"   
  
Draco just nodded without turning his attention away from the infomercials while Harry headed for his bedroom where he would take off his t-shirt and glasses, turn down his bed, set his alarm and bang his head against a wall before falling off to sleep.   
  
********************************************************   
  
When Harry woke up the next morning, he knew something was…different. Patting his hand around on his bedside table until he found his glasses and promptly placing them on his face, he tried to figure out what it was. Yawning and sitting up he tried to remember why he had set his alarm for such an early hour when he was off. Then it hit him. Draco. He was there…in the next room.   
  
_'Oh…that…' _  
  
Groaning, Harry pushed away his covers and left his room to wake Draco. Padding to the spare bedroom door, a thought occurred to Harry…how was he supposed to do this? He could knock…obviously, but what if the knock didn't wake Draco…was he supposed to just walk in? Deciding to just try knocking first, Harry lifted his hand to the door.   
  
*knock knock*   
  
No answer.   
  
*knock knock*   
  
Still no answer.   
  
Sighing, Harry opened the door peered at the bed.   
  
"Draco, it's time to get up."   
  
No response.   
  
"Draco! C'mon…I don't wanna come over there."   
  
A voice from behind Harry made him jump in surprise.   
  
"Well I don't want you to come over here either!"   
  
Turning around, Harry gulped at the blonde standing in front of him wrapped in a towel. His platinum hair still wet and dripping a few stray beads of water on his skin every few seconds.   
  
"Jesus Draco…you scared me…don't go sneaking up on people like that, it'll get you smacked!"   
  
Shaking his head and flinging drops of water onto Harry, Draco looked at his bed tousled host. "Promise?"   
  
With a snort, Harry chose to pursue *other* topics of conversation. "Get dressed while I take a shower. We're going to Gringotts to get some of your money so we can convert it to pounds. You're going to need at least part of it on you."   
  
Draco nodded and the two parted ways to get ready for the day ahead.   
  
*************************************************   
  
After a week of awkward almost-domesticity, Draco and Harry seemed to find their niche with each other. Draco managed to find both a lawyer and an accountant (Michael's suggestions of course) and had a very good start to doing some very lucrative business. Harry had to begrudgingly admit that feeling any jealousy towards the handsome German born wizard was unnecessary. He had come to Harry's flat with some paperwork for Draco to sign and brought his significant other with him, as the two were on their way to dinner when they stopped by. And Harry was pleased to acknowledge that the couple was obviously two steps away from picking out china and finding a woman to carry their child. Still, whenever Harry saw him or heard his name he couldn't get the image of he and Draco down by a lake out of his head.   
  
Upon the following Friday, when Harry returned home from practice glad that he had the rest of the weekend off, he was startled to find shopping bags all over his apartment.   
  
"Draco?" he called out.   
  
The blonde came sauntering in with a huge smile on his face which confused Harry even more.   
  
"What is all this?"   
  
"I officially started Malfoy Enterprises today, and I felt I needed a wardrobe update."   
  
Harry scratched his head. "That's fantastic…what is it again?"   
  
Draco smirked at Harry and cocked his head to the side. "Well Harry…what am I really good at?"   
  
"Shopping apparently"   
  
"Other than that…"   
  
Harry quirked a raven brow. "Blow jobs?"   
  
Draco mimicked the gesture. "Why thank you…but no…other than that?"   
  
"Being an evil bastard?"   
  
Draco steepled his fingers and kept his brow in place. "I am aren't I? But no!"   
  
Harry shrugged. "Well then I don't know…sorry"   
  
Draco made an exasperated sigh. "Well…I've always been told I'm a bit too critical. I tend to look at things…or people…and point out everything that's wrong."   
  
"And?"   
  
"So, I'll take my insanely huge pile of money and rescue some poor little companies, wizard and muggle, from going under. They give me a share in the profits, I fix the company to benefit man and wizard kind along with donating to and starting a few charities."   
  
As professional as it was, it sounded like a lot of work to Harry. "That's great and all…but won't that be a lot of work? And, no offense, but it doesn't really sound like your heart's in it…"   
  
Draco rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he did so. "Of course it'll be a lot of work, that's why I have to hire a staff. And as far as my heart being in it…this is the most promising idea I've found yet…I'm just a bit nervous."   
  
"Okay then…I take it you'll be finding a flat soon then?"   
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, I talked to Michael about it, and I think I'll stay here in London…I like it here."   
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course."   
  
Even though he didn't feel as jealous anymore, Harry still thought this Michael guy was taking up an awful lot of Draco's time. But then again, he had seen the man work…and he knew his stuff. And if Draco insisted on being a business man, at least he seemed to be doing it right. Draco crossed the distance between them and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder snapping the seeker back to reality.   
  
"I think we should celebrate!"   
  
Draco's statement was just that…a statement, not a question. Harry nodded and pointed towards the shower, indicating that he needed to clean himself first.   
  
When Harry stepped out of the bathroom (having remembered his robe this time) he was shocked to see not only Draco, but David, his chaser in more ways than one sitting on his sofa.   
  
"Draco?" Harry questioned, but before Draco could answer, the sandy haired chaser shifted his sky blue gaze over towards Harry.   
  
"Why, Harry Potter…no wonder you never go out with any of us, I wouldn't either with this one at home. Shame on you for keeping him locked up here though…didn't your mother tell you that it's polite to share?"   
  
Extremely annoyed and unimpressed with David's attempt to be charming, Harry stared at him fixedly and spoke in a deadpan voice.   
  
"My mother's dead."   
  
This stunned the room to silence for a moment. The stillness did not last long though, as David, ever persistent, leapt up from his seat on the couch and strode over to the robed Harry. He placed his tanned forearms on Harry's shoulders and looked him in the face.   
  
"Sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Potter, I just came by to tell you that a few of us are going to Babylon. I wanted to see if you wanted to leave your cave for once."   
  
Harry shrugged out from under the arms. "Ever heard of a phone?"   
  
The chaser smirked, although it seemed, to Harry, sub-par. "Phones are so impersonal, besides…I don't have your number…unless you want to give it to me."   
  
"You're here now, so I hardly see the point. And to answer your other query, no…we're busy."   
  
Draco, eager to experience more of his new home, piped up much to Harry's aggravation.   
  
"No we're not! I was just saying that we should go out and celebrate."   
  
David smiled and ran a hand though his slightly curly hair before crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
"Well then, that settles it. I'll expect to see you by 9 then. Ta!"   
  
After the other man had left, Harry turned to glare at Draco. "I hate you."   
  
The former Slytherin just snorted and smiled sweetly at him. "No you don't…now get dressed."   
  
****************************************************   
  
At half past nine, two very fetching boys entered a very noisy club. Harry looked irritated in his simple jeans and black t-shirt, while Draco looked both excited and overwhelmed in a more complicated ensemble of black slacks and a grey button down shirt. Unconsciously, Draco found himself clutching Harry's arm to keep from getting separated. Harry didn't particularly mind, as he'd had to remind himself of all the reasons *not* to attack Draco when he laid eyes on what the pureblood intended on wearing. The dark grey shirt seemed tailored to him (as it most likely was) and the sleeves managed to just skim his knuckles, right above his fingertips. Trying to refocus his thoughts, Harry turned to him.   
  
"Do you ever wear any other colors other than black and grey?"   
  
Still looking around wide eyed, Draco answered him, shouting slightly over the music. "Not usually."   
  
Having really no clue why people even came here in the first place, Harry decided that if he were going to have anything other than a *miserable* time, he'd have to visit the bar. He steered himself and Draco towards the bartender.   
  
After ordering himself a double shot of straight scotch, and Draco the same, as the blonde *insisted* he could go shot for shot with him, Harry leaned back against the bar. Draco seemed to be loosening up a bit and after throwing his shots back like a champ, the beautiful boy with the grey gaze turned towards his former lover.   
  
"You look like you've been here before."   
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah…got dragged here a couple times before you showed up on my doorstep."   
  
"Ah…you look like you hate it."   
  
Before Harry could tell Draco that he didn't just *look* like he hated it, David rushed over and planted himself between the two of them and told the bartender that the next round was on him.   
  
"Hmmm, Boy-Who-Never-Has-Any-Fun, I was worried you wouldn't come." He turned his attention to Draco. "And I'm extremely glad to see you too. Tell me…I heard Harry call you Draco earlier, you wouldn't happen to be Draco Malfoy would you?"   
  
Draco nodded and tossed back his next two shots when they arrived; Harry and David doing the same. All three of the men made a face before David continued questioning Draco.   
  
"So what exactly are you doing here? I mean…I wasn't aware you were…"   
  
Draco cut him off. "Long story."   
  
The chaser took full advantage of the loud music to lean into Draco and whisper into his ear. "Well…if you ever feel like sharing…"   
  
Harry had to force himself not to crush his glass in his hand. He thought he would be happy to have David's attention averted elsewhere…but not to Draco. Much to his chagrin, David turned back around and threw an arm around Harry's shoulder.   
  
"Dance with me Potter."   
  
Removing the hand, Harry let out a very firm "No."   
  
"Oh please!"   
  
"No"   
  
Predictably, David turned his attentions to Draco. "What about you?"   
  
Draco stole a glance at Harry. "I don't think…"   
  
His refusal was cut short by Harry. "Go ahead, live a little…or whatever."   
  
Without even being given the chance to answer, Draco was dragged off to the dance floor by a very eager professional quidditch player.   
  
Harry tried not to stare…he really did. He tried…and failed. He was awash with emotions, and the alcohol swimming in his bloodstream seemed to intensify all of them. Between old fashioned jealousy and just being simply transfixed by how amazingly graceful Draco looked when he danced, Harry questioned all the decisions he had made recently. Still staring, he noted that Draco had a rare breed of masculine poise…truly a feat to be admired. And admired it was…quite noticeably by several people. Harry was so intent of brooding, he actually completely ignored being hit on three times himself, not even noticing the other men there. After fifteen minutes of sitting alone, he ordered another drink and relocated to a spot where he could see better – the balcony. After all…if he was going to be a voyeur, he might as well do it right.   
  
Not caring whether or not he'd actually gone crazy, Harry began a conversation, of sorts, with himself.   
  
_'I swear to god…if I see him touch Draco again…'   
  
**'Why do you care? Do you want him?'   
**  
'It's not a question of wanting him'   
  
**'Well, if you aren't *claiming* him…who are you to be so possessive? Is he not a grown man?'   
**  
'But…'   
  
**'No buts!'   
**  
'Oh piss off!.' _  
  
Focusing his attention back on the dance floor, after questioning his sanity, Harry noticed David turn around and put something in his mouth. Snorting and rolling his eyes, Harry turned around to set his empty glass on a table – and in doing so missed seeing his teammate shove his tongue into Draco's mouth. He also missed seeing Draco push the man away and make a 'no' gesture with his hands. A few minutes later, though, he *did* see Draco almost fall over and grip onto David for support.   
  
_'He didn't have that much to drink. He was fine at the bar and I haven't seen him drink anything else since then…'   
_  
Then, from two flights up and across the vast club, Harry saw David, who continued to support a laughing and leaning Draco, hook his fingers into the former Slytherin's belt loops and lead him towards the back.   
  
*************************************************   
  
TBC   
  
I love you guys…don't kill. Just remember…if you kill me (OR send too many ankle biting smurfs) there will be no more story and it'll end *here*…do you really want that?   
  
Now hit the button and tell me how much you hate me, I know you're dying to.   
  
Love and Kisses (trust me, okay?),   
  
Reika   



	3. It must be a sign

Disclaimer: I don't own them

A/N: Alright people, let me get a few things out about this story. This arc of it is a lot more character and emotion based, as opposed to event based, therefore it may not seem as fast paced. I apologize if that upsets any of you…but this is the way I tell the story. I can't help it…I'm an angst whore. 

I was kind of conflicted about this chapter…I mean, it has everything in it that I intended…but it just feels kind of…empty…to me. I dunno…like maybe it's not up to par with the others. It does have it's own place within the grand scheme though. So please review and let me know what *you* think. It would be highly appreciated. Heh…I hope I'm not slipping…. *prays on hands and knees*

Thanks, as always, to Jasmine.

Chapter 3…………It must be a sign.

*****************************************************

"Oh hell no."

Harry may have decided to let Draco make his own decisions, but the blonde was obviously not in his right mind and Harry knew what went on in that back room. He rushed down the first flight of stairs and lost sight of the two men he was chasing. In his haste, he jumped over the railing of the second flight, which roused a gasp from all those standing nearby. Dashing through the dance floor en route towards the backroom, Harry somehow got caught in between two rather large men who were gyrating off beat. The men seemed pleased with their Harry sandwich and were reluctant to let him pass. Not in any mood to negotiate, Harry lost his temper and shoved his way through, spitting and swearing continually. He was fairly disoriented from his ordeal and it took him a moment to remember which direction he was originally headed in. Finally setting himself straight, Harry stalked into the backroom and immediately had to throw off a random groping hand. 

The sight was, if not familiar, not unexpected. David had Draco pushed up against a wall, his face buried in the pale neck. Draco just looked out of it. Harry knew how the former Slytherin reacted to such attentions when in his right mind, and staring blankly into space was not the norm. Harry tried to count to ten, but only got to three before he roughly tapped his teammate on the shoulder. The chaser turned his head. 

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

David snorted. "What does it look like?" And he turned his attentions back to Draco's adams apple. 

Harry grabbed Draco's arm, and he almost fell over. "Draco…we're leaving, come on."

Draco smiled sweetly at him. "Okay, Harry"

David tugged Draco back underneath him and snapped angrily at Harry. "Stop being so possessive. I asked him if you guys were together and he said 'not anymore'…that you didn't want him. So if you don't want him, and you don't want me…then what's your problem?"

Harry was about to break about a million wizarding laws and perform all three unforgivables in front of the muggles.

"First of all…it's none of your business whether we're together or not. Secondly, you're damn right I don't want you, and lastly, this is not about who does and doesn't belong to anyone else…this is about Draco obviously being less than lucid." 

As if on cue, Draco started to fall over and Harry just managed to catch him and prop him back up. His eyes were drooping closed and Harry slapped his cheeks trying to keep him awake, as there was no way he could carry him home and levitating him might look strange to those unfamiliar with the secret world beneath the surface. 

"Jesus, David, what did you give him?"

David just shrugged. "Dunno…it won't kill him though. It looks like he's ready for bed…you wanna take his place?" David turned back to Draco to see if he was awake *enough*. 

Harry very calmly pulled Draco slightly to the right, and before David could turn around and ask any questions, Harry had a handful of the sandy curls. He fisted the chaser's hair from the back of his head and slammed forward as hard as he could, cracking the wall with the skull of his teammate. David was, shall we say, no longer up for arguing. 

"C'mon Draco…lets go, now."

Harry bent down and wrapped an arm around Draco to hoist him up onto his feet. Draco laughed lightly and leaned his head against Harry's head. 

"Where are we going?"

"Home"

The walk home was definitely one of the worst experiences of Harry's eighteen years. Having to support half of Draco's weight while the blonde rambled on and spoke to *everyone* they passed, made Harry a little more than upset. When the duo finally made it upstairs and into the flat, Draco was able, for the most part, to walk on his own. Harry rubbed his shoulder where it would most likely be sore in the morning from the trek. He looked over at Draco who was *far* too amused with the refrigerator magnets. 

"Time for bed now."

Draco turned around and pointed a finger at him. "You. Are not my boss…I'm my boss…me…" He turned the finger around to point at his own chest. "But I am sleepy…mnn…time for bed." 

Draco wandered over towards the bedrooms until he was satisfied and opened the door before heading inside. 

"Draco…that's *my* room."

No answer. 

Harry sighed and pursued him into the room. Draco was sprawled out face down on top of Harry's bed mumbling in something that *might* have been Swahili…but one can never be too sure. Harry moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and proceeded to flip his roommate over. 

"C'mon, I'm tired…you don't have to go to bed, but I am."

Much to Harry's surprise, Draco managed to move quite swiftly, if a bit wobbly. He sat up and knocked Harry backwards before planting his hands on either side of Harry's head to prop himself over the raven haired boy. 

"Draco…what are you doing?"

Draco smirked with a feral glint in his dilated eyes and crashed his lips downwards onto Harry's who, in his shock, remained unresponsive. Draco seemed not to notice…until Harry shoved him off. 

"What are you playing at?"

Draco looked somewhat hurt at being shoved away. "What's the matter, Harry, don't you love me anymore?"

Harry wiggled out from under Draco and twisted around to lie on his side. Draco, feeling rejected, turned over so that Harry was facing his back. 

Harry spoke anyway. "It's not that simple…you of all people know that. You have your business to take care of…and I'm so busy with quidditch."

Draco slid one hand underneath the pillow his head lie on and pulled his knees up, almost to his chest. "I don't see any paperwork or a snitch in here…do you?"

There was a long moment of silence while Harry considered this. In the end, it wasn't that he had changed his mind about anything, but simply that he found lying so close to Draco while the blonde asked for his affection to be *the* hardest thing he'd ever done. He reached out a shaky hand to run it up along the arm in front of him. From there, his hand embedded itself in the impossibly soft blonde hair. Harry scooted closer to him so that he was chest to back with the former Slytherin and slid his hand around Draco's waist, gripping loosely and without confidence. He ran his nose along the neck he'd missed so much and when his lips reached the perfect ear, he whispered. 

"Okay…"

He waited…no response. 

"Draco?"

Still no response.

Propping himself up on one arm, he peered over into a peaceful…sleeping…face. With a sigh, Harry flopped back down on the bed. 

_'It must be a sign…'_

Talking to himself and Draco at the same time, Harry began to speak; confident Draco couldn't hear him in his slumber.

"I worked really hard…so that it wouldn't hurt anymore. I can't go through it again…it's too much. There's just so much in the way…heh…I sound like you did. Imagine that. I'm….I'm sorry."

He brought the blanket up around Draco's shoulders and, certain that the other was well and truly asleep, placed a kiss to his forehead before heading out to sleep in the spare bedroom. 

****************************************************

The next morning, or afternoon rather, Harry looked up from his book at a very unhappy Draco padding into the kitchen. The disheveled boy plopped himself into the chair opposite Harry at the kitchen table and with a groan, pressed his forehead to the cool surface. Harry smiled at him. 

"You're up."

"Ugh…what time is it?"

"About one thirty"

"Oh god…why does my head feel like it's been split in two with an axe? I remember dancing with that David person, who is very grabby by the way, and then he just shoved his tongue in my mouth for no apparent reason…heathen….you'd think he would warn someone…anyways, after that is kind of blurry…I can almost remember walking home, but the rest is just black."

Harry slowly closed his eyes, thinking over the events of the previous night. He opened the emerald orbs again and gave Draco a small smile. 

"There's not much to tell…you just drank too much is all. I had to practically carry you home…then you passed out."

"I don't remember drinking that much."

"Well you wouldn't after a certain point, now would you?

"Why did I wake up in your room?"

"Like I said…you had too much to drink, when we got home you just went in there and racked out. I slept in the spare room."

"Oh…sorry about that I suppose."

"It's alright…here…" Harry got up and grabbed his wand which he pointed at Draco's temple and murmured a spell. Draco noticed that the pain wasn't gone, but lessened greatly.

"Thanks…how do you know that and I don't?"

"Dumbledore taught me to help me deal with the pain in my scar."

The rest of the lazy Saturday and all day Sunday, the two sat around on the sofa watching television or reading. Draco was beginning to go a bit stir crazy, but still felt too ill to actually bring himself to dress and leave the flat. He tried his best to make conversation with the only other person who seemed to understand him, but Harry was unusually quiet, seemingly in deep thought at all times. After awhile, Draco elected to just let him be. Sunday night, when the weekend came to a close, Draco gave Harry a smile and a goodnight to which Harry only nodded before they parted ways to sleep in beds far too large for one person. 

***********************************************

The next morning, being a Monday, Harry was surprised to find Draco already up and drinking a cup of coffee when he dazedly arose to take his shower and head out to practice. It was obvious that Draco did not notice him, as the blonde sat at the table perusing over the newspaper and making snide comments every now and then about how he would never fully understand the muggles. Harry decided to just stand back a moment and watch him. He was thinking about how handsome the former Slytherin looked when being himself…thinking no one was watching, and how for all his spoiling growing up, the boy definitely knew how to dress himself. Draco was currently attired in black slacks with a white dress shirt and a black sweater vest pulled over the top. Harry smiled, thinking about how nice it was to just be around Draco again, and how glad he was to have him back. Draco started talking to himself again.

"Hmmm….let me see…ah yes, the classifieds…I think this is what Michael said to look at…yes, there it is…flats…"

Harry's smile faltered. He now realized Draco's reasons for reading the paper…he was looking for an apartment. Without a word to his pseudo roommate, Harry stepped into the bathroom and closed the door so that he could take his shower and remind himself that Draco was doing what was important to him, and that he should be happy for him and proud that he was doing on his own terms.

Draco, hearing the bathroom door close, looked up from the table. His expression changed to one of confusion and worry. 

"Well good morning to you too…" he voiced aloud in his frustration. 

Even though he was irritated with Harry's indifferent behavior over the weekend and this morning, Draco decided to wait until he got out of the shower to leave. So when Harry stepped out of the bathroom and made way towards his bedroom, again with no word to Draco, he was stopped by a voice from the kitchen. 

"Harry?"

Harry turned, trying to be nonchalant, as if maybe he hadn't seen Draco there. "Hm? Oh…good morning."

"Is everything okay, Harry?"

"S'fine…just tired. Was there something you wanted?"

"Well…no, not particularly. I just wanted to let you know I get to hire my staff today. My very own staff…of *people*, not elves…can you believe it?"

Still without eye contact, Harry spoke to Draco, although it would appear that he was speaking to someone slightly to Draco's left. "So you're off then?"

"Well yes, I have to meet Michael in about 15 minutes…are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Harry turned and waved his hand dismissively from behind him. "See you later then." And he entered his bedroom, closing the door behind him and ending any conversation. 

With many concerns but no time to act on them, Draco swept his key from its usual place on the counter and left to kick off his days as Mr. Malfoy.

From inside his bedroom, Harry leaned his forehead against his side of the door, with one hand still on the doorknob and the other palmed against the surface. He made silent apologies to his guest. He didn't want to hurt Draco's feelings; even though doing so did give him a pleasant tingle of satisfaction after all he'd been put through. Even so, he saw it as best that he not get attached to something that was so obviously destined to leave him no matter what he did or said. 

_'Better to push him away now than let him in and allow him to take my heart with him when he leaves…'_

Quidditch practice was not going to be a fun and carefree event, Harry knew. This would be the first of David he had seen since bashing his head into a wall at Babylon. Having chosen to ignore the chaser, Harry was quite irate when the sandy haired man approached him. 

"Potter…I…um…"

"*what*?"

"Well…please don't hit me….I just wanted to say…sorry…"

Harry was not won over by the apology. Although he did find David's broken nose quite humorous. "There…you said it. Goodbye."

The chaser was not so keen to let the subject drop and grabbed Harry by the arm when he attempted to pass. His sudden actions caused Harry to trip and fall into his arms. David, not one to miss an opportunity, flashed what (under less….broken…circumstances) would be his most charming smile. 

"So you're not mad at me then…."

Harry shoved him off and stood straightening himself and swearing under his breath. "God, I've seen whores with more shame than you…"

As grueling as it was, Harry managed to live through his practice. During the day he was reminded on several occasions that the season would be starting soon and that he would be gone from home for many nights during that time. When he returned home at his usual time, he wasn't surprised to find the flat empty. He went through his normal ritual of showering and changing his clothes, although tonight, he actually dressed, figuring he'd go out for food…with or without Draco. Just as he was about to leave, though, he heard someone floo into his living room. 

"Harry! We're so glad we caught you! I said we should have called first, but then with all the explaining to Ron about phones and what not…gah!, well anyways…here we are and we're so glad we caught you!"

Harry smiled, very happy to see his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. Hermione was rattling on as per usual, while Ron just rolled his eyes and waved at Harry. Harry gave them both a hug and enquired to their reasons for visiting; to which Hermione looked offended. 

"You mean we need reasons now?"

Harry laughed and was about to answer her when a though occurred to him. _'Draco…shit…'_

"Harry?....you okay?"

Shaking his head and trying to figure out how to politely usher the two of them from his home before his flat mate returned, Harry threw his arms around both their shoulders.

"Of course you don't need a reason Mione, I was just headed out to dinner. Would you guys like to join me?"

Ron raised an eyebrow at his friend. "*You* are going out? What's the occasion…you've a date or something?"

Harry stuttered a bit, seeing as how close to accurate Ron's accusation was. Harry's two companions however, took this as a 'yes'. Hermione immediately hugged him while Ron just slapped him on the back. 

"Harry, we're so happy for you! It's about time, right Ron?"

Ron nodded. 

Waving his hands, Harry tried to squirm out of Hermione's famous death grip. "No…look guys…it's nothing like that. Let's just go to dinner okay?"

"But Ha…"

Whatever it was that Ron wanted to say would have to wait, as the front door was opening and a very male voice could be heard from the intrusion. 

"Harry, you'll never believe it…it was absolutely amazing, I have a staff of 40 people right now, most of them are muggle familiar wiz….what are….oh….it's you." Draco stopped speaking in favor of glaring at Ron, who gaped in shock at his presence in Harry's flat. 

Ron closed his eyes and directed his attention to Harry. "Harry, tell me I'm hallucinating and that Malfoy is *not* in your house."

"You're hallucinating and Malfoy is not in my house."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes."

Ron's eyes shot open. "Bloody hell, Harry? Have you forgotten what that git did to you? Do I need to remind you?"

Harry sighed, feeling sorry for himself that he always had to play peacekeeper it seemed. "No Ron…I don't need reminding. It's a long story, and it's my house. I'd appreciate it if you two could at least *try* to get along while here…"

Draco scoffed at this suggestion. "Yes yes…I'll get along with Weasley, and after that why don't we all build a campfire and sing?"

Ron made to lunge at Draco, but was caught by Hermione and Harry. "You know, Malfoy, I still owe you one for what you pulled graduation day!"

"Enough!" Harry stepped in between the two. "Look, god damnit, this is my house and I don't like being the referee here. Draco, shut your smart ass mouth for five minutes, and Ron, don't make judgments when you don't know what you're talking about, okay?"

The blond and the red head looked like scolded children both sneering at each other and mumbling under their breath. Hermione, ever the voice of reason, used this moment to speak up. 

"Look, Harry, maybe we should come back another time?"

"Yeah…I think that might be a good idea.

Ron jumped in. "Mione, we can't just leave Harry here with *him*!"

Hermione started to drag Ron by the arm back to the fireplace. "Yes we can Ron, Harry's a big boy. Goodbye Malfoy, and Harry…take care of yourself, *please*?"

"Sure…bye Mione…bye Ron…"

After his two best friends left, Harry turned on Draco. "Just what is your problem?"

Draco looked like some one had accused him of being a Weasley himself. "Excuse me? What's *my* problem? I was just *standing* here and he opened his painfully ignorant mouth…don't blame this on me."

Harry threw his hands up in irritation. "You always have to take an already volatile situation and just exploit it don't you?"

"What are you talking about?! All I wanted to do was come home and tell you that I had a good day, that I got started, and I set one foot in here and get insulted. Does it not matter that I live here too?"

Harry glared at him. "You *don't* live here…you were supposed to find a flat."

Draco looked both shocked at hurt at Harry's words. "You're right…you know what, I'll just get my things and go now." He picked up the phone and dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket. After staring at the phone for a solid minute, not sure which button to push to get started he gave in and asked Harry to help him. 

"Which of these buttons starts the call?"

"That one." Harry pointed to the 'talk' button and assumed Draco could handle the rest, as simple as it was. "Who are you calling?"

"Michael."

"Of course." Harry's voice was cutting and hard. 

Draco hit the talk button again to turn off the phone and threw it onto the sofa. "Just what does that mean?"

Harry remained cold. "Nothing…why?"

Draco crossed the small space between them so that he was practically in Harry's face. "That is a blatant lie. For an honest Gryffindor, you can be pretty malicious, do you know that?" He poked Harry in the chest as he spoke. 

Harry batted the finger poking him away. "I just meant 'of course'…as in of course you would call Michael…who the hell else sees you these days anyways?"

The finger was back as Draco retorted. "That is completely unfair Harry. You've seen his god damned boyfriend, they're happy! And even so, what right of yours is it to get upset? You've done nothing but push me away since I got here. I get the picture okay, I understand that you don't want me, and honestly that's okay, I probably deserve it, but enough with the jealous lover act!"

Slapping the finger away with more force this time Harry looked Draco in the eyes. "What is it that you want from me?"

There was but a moment of silence, although it felt more like a century before Draco reached his hand out and grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, pulling him forward into a rather rough and intense kiss. Harry relented to the kiss almost instantly and for a moment all that seemed to exist were the Dragon and the Hero.

Ultimately, Harry broke the kiss and pushed Draco back a bit. He had to collect himself before meeting the stormy eyes he so often found himself lost in. 

"No"

Draco held his gaze. "That didn't feel like a no."

"Well…it is. My season starts soon…I hardly see you now. It won't work. I should have realized that before it ever began…" Harry headed for his bedroom, but turned back to Draco before disappearing from view. "You don't have to leave…I'm sorry about all that…"

Draco just swore and stormed into his room to dig through one of his drawers. Finding the pack of cigarettes he was looking for, the incensed entrepreneur went out on the balcony and smoked his first cigarette in three months while leaning halfway over the balcony and questioning every recent decision he had made. 

Meanwhile in the master bedroom, a dark haired boy with a very interesting scar on his forehead peered through his curtains at the only person he ever loved enough to let go. 

****************************************************

TBC


	4. No questions asked

Disclaimer: Do Harry and Draco get it on in the books? No? Then I certainly do not own them.

A/N: Thank you guys *so* much for the reviews…they keep me constantly inspired. Thank you all for sticking with me through this…I'm trying to take good care of you. Thanks again and enjoy the chapter…thanks, as always, goes to the big J.

Chapter 4……………...No questions asked.

***********************************************************

Harry Potter slept in on Saturdays…well…most Saturdays. This particular Saturday irritated the boy with the thousand watt smile and emerald eyes. He had *intended* to sleep in…but that would imply that one had been to sleep in the first place and Harry had spent the entire night either tossing and turning or just staring up at the ceiling. 

_'God…I was *fine* for two months…'_

Draco had only been gone on his business trip for two days and Harry thought he would enjoy the simplicity of not having to deal with his complicated relationship with the boy. But no…his absence could be felt deeply by one Harry James Potter who had tried to occupy his mind with a million different things before just resigning himself to lying in bed all day. His new pastime offered him plenty of time to think, unfortunately. And think Harry did…about everything. 

_'If it's this hard now…imagine if things were different…if I actually had something to miss...'_

Harry sighed. _'At least I'll be glad when he's home…but…what then? Will anything be different? Can I actually fool myself into thinking that things will be any different just having him around? Has anything changed?...'_

_'No' _Harry thought_ 'This is further proof that it won't work…I won't take something that was once good and let it turn to something bitter and jaded. But…if I keep pushing him away while keeping him at arms length, he's going to bite back…and it's going to hurt.'_

The thought worried Harry…Draco's bites were brutal and tended to wound more than mere flesh. Although almost morbid, Draco's ferocity was one of the things that made Harry proud of him, and he was happy that the strength and confidence in his one time companion had finally found a place to flourish, although at the same time he longed for the naivety he possessed not so long ago. It was then that he honestly believed that as long as they were together, nothing else mattered. Or more so…nothing mattered so much as to warrant worry. But now…with reality staring him in the face and his heart in the balance…everything mattered…and it was all too much. 

It had been a week since Draco had kissed him, and Harry could still feel the tingle in his lips. It had been too long since he'd been touched, held or wanted on any real or deep level and pulling out of the kiss was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do…*everything* about Draco seemed to be the hardest thing he'd had to do. Shouldn't that tell him something? And if so…then why did he still have this gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach?

Groaning and finally getting out of bed, Harry headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. With the coffee made, he gave Hedwig a treat and decided that maybe he should put some time in with Ron and Hermione since Draco was gone. It seemed the ideal time, since this meant there wouldn't be a rumble in his living room. Yes…this would be the perfect idea. Feeling somewhat better, Harry prepared to owl his best friends and invite them to dinner.

************************************************

Meanwhile in New York City, Draco Malfoy sighed tiredly from his hotel room. The trip had not been uneventful, but there was something…missing. It wasn't as if he had loads of work to keep him tied up, as things were still in their beginning state. More than anything…Draco was…lonely. It had been a week since he'd been formally rejected by Harry and the dull ache of it was starting to get to him. The city was as magnificent as he had always heard it to be…but alone…what was there to do? Irate with his stagnancy, Draco finally leapt up and ventured down the hall to the room Michael was staying in. It might not be as fulfilling as touring around with a date…but at least there would be *some* company. When he reached the appropriate door, Draco raised his hand to knock but was surprised when it opened before he got the chance. 

"Michael…I was just coming to see you. Are you busy?"

The other wizard ran a hand through his shoulder length dark hair and smiled. "No, actually…I was going to ask you the same thing. A bit boring at the moment isn't it?"

"Quite. Do you want to see some of the city with me…I'd rather not go alone."

"Sure, come in for a moment and I'll grab my jacket."

Draco stepped into the room and waited for his friend to finish getting ready.

***********************************************

Harry and Ron sat at the table speaking very rarely while Hermione finished cooking the two of them dinner. She wasn't the best cook, but insisted that Harry wasn't eating right and demanded that he let her make him a more nutritious meal. After a while, Harry could no longer take the silence from his befreckled best friend. 

"Look, Ron…I'm sorry I didn't tell you Draco was staying here."

Ron looked over at him and shook his head. "Is that really why you think I'm mad?"

A little confused, Harry inquired further. "Well…it would upset me if I were you. You were already under the impression that I didn't tell you anything. What else would it be?"

Looking his friend in the eye for the first time that night, Ron gave Harry a sad smile. "Harry, who you want to shack up with isn't anyone's business but yours."

Harry frowned at the phrase 'shacking up' but let it pass, as he was already on fragile ground with Ron. "Well, Ron…then I don't understand. I thought you were upset that Draco was living here."

Ron's eyes grew in size and his mouth opened in astonishment. "*Living here?* He's living here now? Jesus Harry what is wrong with you? Sometimes I think you've fallen off your broom one too many times…"

Harry furrowed his brow and frowned. "I'm confused…you say you don't care who I choose to 'shack up with', as you so elegantly put it, but you're obviously upset about it…"

Moving to a seat closer to Harry, Ron looked deep into his eyes, trying to get through. "Harry…you know that I was trying really hard to be understanding before, even when I knew it was Malfoy. I'll pretty much support you in whatever you do, as long as you're happy…but I saw what he said to you…the way he treated you that day. I've seen how he treats people when something goes wrong in that warped brain of his. It's some weird self preservation tactic I'm sure…but that doesn't change the fact that everything even remotely near him withers away for one reason or another. How can you devalue yourself like that? You mean so much to Mione and I…how can you mean so little to yourself?"

Harry sighed and put his head in his hands, although he was glad to hear how much he meant to his friends. "It's not what you think Ron…we're not together…anymore. He basically refused to do what his father wanted him to and got thrown out. He's trying really hard to stand on his own two feet and doing an excellent job so far. He didn't have anywhere else to go…"

"So let me get this straight…" Ron began "…Malfoy is penniless?"

Harry shook his head. "No…rich as ever…he has his own money, plus business is looking good for him."

"Okay…so he's still got his piles of money… And you two aren't together?"

Again, Harry shook his head. 

"Then tell me why he's still here. I know it's hard for you to let him go, especially since you don't seem to even realize that you're holding on…but he *is* still here."

Harry had no answer for this, but thankfully, Hermione appeared at the table with their meal and the discussion quickly changed. Long after dinner and after he had bid his friends goodbye, Harry still could not get Ron's words out of his head. The red head had a point. Why was Draco still there? Was he as reluctant to leave as Harry was to let him go? Soon enough, Harry found that dwelling on the subject only led him in endless circles around his conscious and the tight feeling in the pit of his stomach. Refusing to think any more about it, he headed off to bed where he would, undoubtedly, think some more. 

**************************************************

Draco found that he quite liked New York City. The people were eccentric and friendly enough…but what he loved most was the art. There was art of some form or another everywhere he looked. Michael, also being an art lover, had an excellent time touring the city with the blonde. Before long, they ended up in Central Park sitting side by side and chatting about seemingly inconsequential things. When all of a sudden, Michael took the conversation in a slightly more serious direction. 

"So…Harry Potter. What is he to you? Is he your friend? Your lover?"

Draco looked down at the ground for a moment, considering his answer. "Neither…really. He's not my lover…anymore. We were never really friends…I suppose we are, but we never would have been if it weren't for…" he trailed off. 

"I see. Why is it that you live with him then?"

Draco wasn't sure he had an honest answer for the question. "I'm not sure exactly…I just deposited myself on his doorstep after I left my family. With the business and everything that's happened…I just haven't made the effort to move out."

Michael looked at Draco then…his almost black gaze fixing intensely on Draco's grey. He held the stare for a long moment before Draco, getting somewhat anxious with the inspection, had to look away. After another moment of silence, Draco stood. 

"I suppose we should be getting back…I think we have a meeting in an hour or so."

Michael stood as well. "Yes, that's correct."

The two made it back to their respective rooms in relative silence. Michael was the silent type, strong and tranquil, while Draco had a small knot in his throat from the intensity of their earlier moment in the park. 

************************************************

Finally what seemed to be the longest week of Harry Potter's life came to an end. For all the fireworks going off in his head, he kept his demeanor calm when Draco stepped into the flat looking immaculate as ever. From the sofa, he glanced over his shoulder when the blonde closed the door behind him. 

"How was your trip?"

"It was fine…the city was beautiful…I intend to go back at some point."

"Ah…"

Silence reigned until Draco spoke up. 

"Is that an interesting magazine?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah…sure…"

The Malfoy smirk made its appearance. "Then wouldn't you want to read it right side up?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment at having been so unfocused and worse, being called on it. Luckily, Draco chose not to dwell on it. 

"Harry, I am starving…if I don't eat, I may end up chewing on the sofa…do you want to go get some food?"

Harry considered the situation. Dinner with Draco…it sounded…nice. Again he had to remind himself not to make so much out of the small things, as fleeting as they were. 

"Sure…why not?"

***************************************************

After dinner, when the two reentered the flat chatting jovially, Draco was surprised to find that he had an owl. Harry assumed it was business and left him to it while he took a shower. 

He stepped under the spray of hot water and again his brain went into overtime. He hated being so analytical…but there wasn't much choice in such a complex situation. He was quite pleased with the way the evening had played out; the two of them had acted as friends. But still, Harry wondered if being friends would be enough for both of them, or if it was just one big charade on both their parts. Harry was so used to having some sort of definition to everything in his life. Friends…enemies…allies…lovers…everyone had always had their appropriate place and title to him…but Draco seemed to explode and scatter all over the map, invading all aspects of his life but never fitting into any category. 

Harry was thankful that his shower was finished and that maybe he could get some sleep tonight. He dashed from the bathroom and into his room to put on a t-shirt and some flannel pajama pants. He shook the towel over his wet mop of ebony hair one more time, slipped his glasses back up his nose and went back into the living room. Glancing around, he noticed that something was missing…Draco. Padding to his bedroom door, Harry knocked and received no answer and upon opening the door found again no sign of him. He scratched his head and shrugged before going back into the kitchen where he saw Draco's crumpled and discarded message from the owl. Unable to quell his curiosity, Harry picked up the parchment and began to read…

*****************************************************

After Harry announced that he was going to shower, Draco unrolled the parchment, expecting some business papers that he still wouldn't fully understand just yet. He was shocked, to say the least, to find his mother's handwriting. 

_Boy,_

_I am writing to demand that you to cease your attempts at communication with the Manor. Every owl received sends Lucius into a string of curses that is no longer tolerable. It is not a request; neither he nor I have any wish to receive any more word from you. Send no more owls. _

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Draco had to read the awful message three times to make sure it was real. He knew he was no longer allowed to participate in the happenings of his family…but was he no longer family at all? Did he have no place in this world? Did *no one* want him? Apparently not.

He crushed the message in his hand and threw it into the kitchen floor before plunging his hand into his pocket and rooting around for the small pack of cigarettes he was looking for. He couldn't breathe…couldn't see. Anger melded so easily with hurt and self loathing into one black haze that seemed to taint everything he looked to. 

He flung the balcony door open and stepped into the cool night air. Taking a long drag off of his carcinogen laced crutch, Draco found that his legs seemed to no longer work. He leaned back against the building and slid down, coming to rest with his arms crossed over his knees, staring out at the city through tear blurred eyes. 

He thought about his family…it wasn't much of one…but it was *his*. He thought of his Father and the stern resolve the man possessed. The same could be said of Draco…but would he react the same way in the situation? Draco vowed that moment that he would not…he would not become his Father…no matter how much he loved the man. He shimmied his hand into his pocket and fingered his wand, letting the wood run along his fingers. He hadn't even used the thing in so long…his life was different now. What was he? Who was he? Was he even still a Malfoy and was there no one to be proud of him for all the work he had done? He thought about his mother and how untouchable the woman had always seemed. Draco wondered if the light had been sucked from her soul or if she never had one to begin with. He'd never witnessed such a shell of a person such as his mother. He assumed that she was just a stern woman for many years of his life, but adolescence and other occurrences had forced him to admit that Narcissa was barely a woman at all. Draco had always though of women as soft and gentle creatures…and his mother it seemed was composed of harsh lines and jagged edges with an empty, hollow center. His thoughts were interrupted by the patio door opening to his right. He didn't even look over, he knew who was there. 

Harry looked over at Draco who had a calm, almost empty expression on his face. He sat with his knees pulled up and apart, his elbows extended over them – the white tuxedo shirt hanging low on his hands, and a burning cigarette peaking out from the sleeve. 

There were tear tracks on his cheeks, but Harry thought it best not to pay too much attention to them. He looked like an angel, bruised and fallen, yet still so beautiful. Harry finally opened his mouth to speak. 

"I thought you quit."

Draco gave a half smile to no one in particular. "Quitters never win."

Deciding not to beat around the bush, Harry sat down beside him. "I read the letter from your mother…I'm sorry Draco."

Draco still did not face him. "It's nothing…just a request…hardly of any significance."

Harry knew better, but also knew that short of getting the boy to break completely he would get no other response. So he turned slightly and wrapped his arms around the black rose sitting next to him, praying that the thorns would not cut too deep. 

Draco remained unresponsive for a moment, but quickly found himself relaxing into the embrace. His hands slowly found their way around Harry's shoulders while his head fell into the freshly showered neck, the scent of vanilla welcoming him home. 

Harry could feel the wetness on his collar, but did not mention it. He moved one of his hands to the platinum hair and felt his breath catch at the softness…as it always did. After a long moment, he twisted slightly and leaned back against the wall and Draco, instead of moving with him, remained in place and his head slid down into Harry's lap where rough and familiar fingers worked their way across his scalp. 

Neither of them spoke, not knowing what to say and not wanting to ruin the fragile serenity of the moment. Draco remained facing forward with unfocused eyes that blurred the lights of the city. His hands were drawn inward towards his body with this fingers resting on the flannel knee that currently acted as his pillow, tracing absent minded circles along the surface. Harry looked downward at his lap, studying the other's profile and then the pale and perfectly shaped ear, his fingers continually raking through the silky hair. 

After some time had passed, Draco shifted and rolled onto his back to look up at Harry. His chin tilted up at a slight angle, and with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, Harry had full view of the pale column of flesh of Draco's neck. His blonde hair was splayed out over Harry's lap and drops of moisture gleamed off of his long lashes. He looked ethereal…a broken angel from a painting done in a time when true beauty still existed. He reached his soft hand up and let it rest on Harry's cheek before opening supple lips to speak in a low almost whisper. 

"Sometimes things just hurt so much."

Their eyes locked for what might have been a moment, but could have easily been a century. Harry found his head moving on its own accord, his lips parting slightly as he leaned down. They connected and Harry felt his breath hitch in his chest. The kiss was soft and chaste – warm lips connecting and stilling the world around them. Draco's fingers ran from Harry's cheek up into the still damp hair and Harry felt a shiver go up his spine when the fingernails brushed his scalp. 

When the kiss broke, Harry pulled back, but only just. A million voices in his head were screaming at him, each saying something different. Draco's still misty grey eyes were staring up at him asking a thousand questions that Harry wasn't sure he had the answers for. 

"Harry, what…"

Harry placed his finger over the lips of the boy below him, silencing him. 

"Please don't ask me any questions."

Before Draco could reply, Harry leaned down again and placed another kiss to his mouth. This one had more force behind it, but still remained innocent. Draco returned the gesture, his head lifting off of Harry's lap slightly as he leaned into the kiss. Draco drew the other's bottom lip out with his teeth and ran his tongue along the inside curve of the lip, asking permission to deepen their endeavor. At this, Harry pulled away again and stared down at him for a moment before blinking and looking away. 

"You should get some sleep…it's been a long day."

Draco also looked away, which left both of them staring out at the lights beyond their balcony. 

"You're right…go on to bed if you like…I'm going to sit a minute longer."

Harry felt Draco lift himself up off of his lap. The darker haired boy stood and looked down at the dragon who again surrounded himself in his ring of fire, shunning all who would dare to get too close.  "Okay…Are you sure you'll be alright Draco?"

The blonde simply nodded and did not look at him. Harry took a deep breath and padded back inside and to his room. He collapsed onto his bed and covered his face with a pillow before screaming at the top of his lungs in frustration. What had he done? What did it mean? Why? What was he going to do now? After telling Draco not to ask anything of him, he certainly had quite an arsenal of questions for himself. The only answer he could come up with was…he didn't know. 

He didn't know why he had kissed the boy, or what the implications of his actions would be…only that he did it and now he would have to deal with it. He did know one thing…that it mustn't happen again. His situation with Draco was already too confusing and adding another dimension to it would only make things more complicated. But was it really another dimension…or was it always there scratching at the surface and refusing to be ignored? 

He removed the pillow from his face and laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling in total silence. After some time, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that the light creeping in from the hall at his open door had become obstructed. Looking to his right at the doorway he saw Draco leaning against the doorframe, his form framed by warm light that glinted in shades of soft gold off of his hair. 

Harry found that words had left him as he watched Draco move slowly towards him. The blonde made it to the edge of the bed and knelt beside Harry before reaching out his long fingers and determinedly taking off the seeker's glasses and tossing them onto the bedside table. He lifted one leg over Harry so that his knees rested on either side of him and leaned down inch by inch, closing the distance between their faces. Harry finally found his voice. 

"What are you…?"

Draco cut him off by placing his thumb over his lips and slipping the tip inside of his mouth so that the pad of his finger rested on Harry's tongue. 

"You said no questions…"

Harry closed his eyes and relaxed, sinking into the bed and into the boy that it seemed could ask almost anything of him. He closed his lips around the finger as it withdrew from his mouth and was not surprised when a warm tongue took its place. The intricate and deep kiss was interrupted by Harry's shirt which Draco had been pushing up with his hands. Harry lifted his arms to allow the cloth to be discarded before his fingers nimbly began unbuttoning the last of the buttons of Draco's shirt. When he had slipped it off the boy's shoulders, Harry sat up and ran one hand along the newly exposed lower back while his other hand rested at the back of Draco's head, his fingers embedded in the soft blonde hair. He began to nip and lick at the pale neck that tilted back with his ministrations. 

Draco let out a shaky breath and moved his head back down so that he could again capture Harry's lips. Within the kiss, Draco pushed Harry back down and his hands found the seekers own rougher ones and pressed them into the pillow above both their heads. He kissed his way down to Harry's jaw and placed somewhat sharp, but not unpleasant, little bites there. Stopping for a moment, Draco looked up at Harry's flushed face, softly illuminated by the light from the doorway. He stretched up until his mouth was level with the other boy's forehead and gently traced a finger over the lightning shaped scar, causing Harry to jolt underneath him. He took each of Harry's hands and wrapped the boy's fingers around the bars of the headboard; silently instructing him to keep his hands placed there…Harry complied. 

Coming back down, the blonde placed a kiss to the top of Harry's head and stopped again at the scar that was this time traced with a warm tongue. The sensation caused Harry to buck his hips up and forced a soft moan from his lips. Draco continued to place soft kisses along his face and down his neck triggering Harry to arch his head back and to the side to give him greater access. Before long the kisses moved lower still….past his collarbone…along a smooth tanned chest rising and falling erratically, displaying the restlessness of the former Gryffindor…and down to the taut stomach. Harry had to stifle a yell when a pink tongue dipped into his navel and found it no easier to keep quiet when that same tongue ran a line across his lower stomach underneath the elastic band of his pants. When Draco ran his nose along the distinct line of arousal in Harry's pajamas, Harry knew only one thing…he *had* to kiss him. He had to kiss him that instant or he would die. 

Relinquishing his grip on the headboard with one hand, his fingers found Draco's chin and he tilted the face to look at him before pulling slightly, asking the boy to come to him. Draco complied, but when their faces met, the blonde one pressed his lips to Harry's ear and took the seeker's free hand in his own. 

"I thought I asked you to keep these up here." 

Draco moved Harry's hand back to its place gripping the head board, and then complied with Harry's wishes, crashing his lips down onto the other boy's with an urgency not usually associated with the cool Slytherin. 

Deeply involved in the kiss, Harry was jolted out of his hazy state by a sharp pain in his lower lip that caused him to jerk back, breaking their contact. 

"Ow…"

Draco said nothing, but ran his fingers up along the length of tanned neck underneath him until his thumb pressed into the underside of Harry's chin, forcing his head back and exposing his throat. Harry could feel wet kisses at the hollow of this throat and up along his adams apple and had just started to relax again when another sharp pain shot through him with a harsh bite to his neck. 

"Ow…Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Again, Draco said nothing, but made a soft "Hnnn" noise and placed his index finger in Harry's mouth to quiet him. Harry was about to protest when he felt the wet finger make contact with his nipple, hardening it instantly. Draco's mouth quickly replaced the finger, causing Harry to moan. The moan turned to yelp when again he was bitten. This time he pushed Draco away and sat up to avoid being quieted yet again. 

"For the love of god, *Ow*. What's wrong with you? Why are you being to harsh?"

Harry knew Draco had a darker side and that it most definitely made its appearances in the bedroom…but this time his actions were unusually fierce. Harry wondered if he had drawn blood. 

Again Draco said nothing, but sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Well?" Harry prodded. 

Draco finally spoke. "If all you are going to do is complain, I'll just be going now." He lifted up as if to leave, but Harry caught his arm. 

"I don't want you to leave…I just want to know why you're acting so strangely."

Draco glared at him. "I'm not acting strangely…this is *me*. No one seems to care at all about who I really am or what I want. I'm just trying to be me for the first time and I have *no* control over anything…"

Harry closed his eyes and smiled a small smile, finally understanding at least a bit more. So that was it…control. Receiving the harsh words from his family must have made Draco question his effectiveness at having any say in what happens to him. Harry understood, but still wasn't too keen on bleeding everywhere Draco chose to kiss him. To calm the former Slytherin, Harry reached out his hand and pulled Draco closer to him. He bowed his head so that the other boy would not feel at all challenged. 

"You can't control everything…I know that better than anyone…sometimes you just have to let things happen and pray to Merlin that you can keep up…"

Harry laid down, taking Draco with him and cocooned the brooding blonde in his arms. They were quiet and still for a long time before Harry, against his better judgment, asked Draco the question pounding in his head. Were Draco to ask it of him in return he would have no answer at all. 

"What does this mean?"

It took Draco a moment to respond and when he did, he remained facing the opposite direction, not looking at Harry. 

"Nothing…this means nothing Harry…"

_'Maybe it's better that way…'_ Harry thought as sleep finally took him.

He awoke some time later and glanced at the clock…two thirty in the morning…it had been two hours. Immediately he noticed the emptiness of the bed around him. Patting his arms around just to make sure, his thoughts were confirmed…Draco was gone from his bed.  

***************************************************

TBC

I *loved* writing this chapter. Please review…I love you guys. There is much to come.

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	5. Sigh

Okay peoples…I am so sorry for the lateness of the upcoming chapter. Everything I try to write has been *complete* and utter crap. Writing non stop for these two stories has burned me out me thinks. The chapters were coming so fast and now my motivation has just been zero. I've been doing a lot of illustrations for them though. Whenever I get creative juices…they seem to find their outlet in my visual art and when I'm finished…there's no juice left to write. Hopefully this will not be long…I just need some inspiration. Maybe I'll watch a really angsty movie tonight…that might do it. Anyways…I promise that this rut will not last long…I'll get the words out if I have to slice myself open and pull em out myself. Please please please don't abandon me…I'm not abandoning you, and I *promise* that a new chapter will be up *soon*. 

Thank you so much, my lovely readers. 

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	6. A decision is made

Disclaimer:

A/N: Okay. Some things were brought to my attention with a recent review. I know there is a lot of angst in this story…and I know it's getting on some nerves that they (Harry and Draco) aren't just chucking the script and making it like bunnies. I understand your frustration. (Think how they must feel!). However, answer me this, how many eighteen year old couples have *you* met that fall in love and everything just works out perfectly? Shit happens. That's life. Anyways…long story short….I said to trust me, and you should. I *will* try to be a little clearer with the characters motivations though. Please review. Thanks, Jasmine, for reading this through and blessing me with the entire season of Gravitation. Oh oh oh….AND showing me the face of god. His name is Travis Fimmel…look him up…that is *the* most perfect fucking creature ever. EVER. I want to have his babies….

One more note…a lot of this chapter is in French. I apologize if any of it incorrect…please bear with me. 

Chapter 5…………

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A month had passed. The thirty or so mornings that had passed since the night Draco had come onto him met Harry with a bed that felt emptier than usual. The first few days had been awkward, with the both of them pointedly avoiding the other. After a week or so, there was no point and they reverted right back to where they started from – friendly and familiar yet tense and somewhat distant. Draco was right…it changed nothing. In appearance anyways. Harry remained as conflicted as ever. Maybe even more so…he now knew he could have the blonde boy sleeping down the hall from him if he so chose. He could have him…at least for a little while…and that was what scared him. Could *anyone* truly have Draco for any longer than a little while…was it even possible? 

Harry Potter was en excellent judge of character. He knew of Draco's desire to go everywhere and do everything his youth would allow…even if the blonde didn't know it himself just yet. Thinking back on their time together in school, Harry smiled. Everything was simple. Thrown together in coincidence and kept together in secrecy…it was like a story. It was…amazing….most of the time. But still…there was no denying the nature of the boy Harry had so haphazardly handed his heart to. They were so young…and there were no guarantees that Draco would not become bored. Harry noticed how they looked at Draco. Men…women. If Draco noticed, he said nothing of it…and that made them want him even more. He did not doubt the words of affection spoken to him on those many nights curled together in his room at school. He did not doubt that Draco loved him. He *knew* he loved Draco. So what was the problem…right? The problem was Harry's love and how different it was from Draco's. Neither could be called greater than the other…yet in nature they were impossibly different. Harry loved with every fiber in him…right to his core, like a blanket – lightweight and warm, enveloping and strong. Draco's love was intense – it bore down hard and managed to break in places whatever it hit. Harry had no doubts that Draco had it in him to be devoted. But would he be happy? And if so…for how long? Harry wasn't so sure he was up to the task of taming the dragon himself. It seemed so easy to want to save him from a life and marriage that was wrong in every imaginable way. But to save him from the world? Was it saving or simply selfishness? 

Harry Potter was a good man. He wanted the best for those he cared for. This was the first time in Draco's life where the boy could be himself and not want to throw himself off of a bridge. Was he not allowed some time out in the world to see what he really wanted? If so…why was he still there? Money was no object, why was he still in Harry's little flat? 

Harry Potter made a decision. If he wanted Draco to be happy with him…if he wanted to be with him without the constant threat of heartbreak…he had to let him go. Draco certainly wasn't going to go himself…for whatever reasons. Harry realized that Draco would never be happy having never seen the world. Eventually it would get to him…eventually he would leave him. It was already starting. He could see it. Draco was always busy…but he loved every minute of it, and it was only a matter of time before something or someone piqued his interest. As much as it pained him, Harry didn't want to be the reason Draco missed out on all the possibilities life had to offer him. If what Draco really wanted was Harry…he would be back…someday. 

Harry Potter rose out of bed to prepare for the first quidditch game of his season.

***************************************************************************

Later in the evening, after catching his first professional snitch and a short celebration, Harry returned home. He put his hand to the doorknob and began to turn…but then he stopped. Was that laughter? It was. But it wasn't Draco's. Opening the door and stepping inside, Harry let his eyes roam around his living room. There were papers strewn about and a few stray beer bottles adorning the coffee table. The laughter was currently coming from the kitchen. 

Harry rounded the corner to peer inside. The first thing he saw was a shock of long black hair and he scowled. Michael. Of course. The man was leaning back with his elbows resting on the counter. Peering further he saw Draco leaning against the opposite counter. Harry was shocked. He had on jeans. Harry didn't even know Draco owned jeans. The boy was quite delectable standing there barefoot with his hair tied back into a short and messy ponytail. His shoulders were bared due to the white undershirt he wore. The blonde noticed Harry and smiled at him. 

"Harry…you're home…how did it go? Did you catch the snitch?"

"Oh…yeah. We won."

Draco smiled again. "Good to hear. Sorry about the mess…I'll clean it…we were just getting some work done." Harry noticed Draco's obvious aversion to the word clean. 

Stepping fully into view, as here was now no point in hiding, Harry let his eyes scan the rest of the room. There, sitting on the floor and leaning against the refrigerator was Andrew…Michael's boyfriend. He smiled up at Harry and made a small 'hello' gesture with his hand. Harry returned it and the room was quiet for a moment before Michael turned his attention to Draco. 

"So, dinner tomorrow night. Try not to be late…I heard this guy is a complete asshole, but we can certainly use him."

Harry had no clue what they were talking about but he saw Draco nod. The blonde then ushered the other two men out of the apartment after they said their goodnights. He began picking up papers and bottles absent mindedly before turning to Harry. 

"Harry, do you own a suit?"

Harry blinked, surprised by the question. "Yeah…why do you ask?"

"Well, I though you might like to come with me tomorrow night. It's a business thing, and Michael knows more about all this than I do. I think I might feel better with you there. Not to mention the man we're meeting is a muggle and you're a bit more familiar with them. Are you busy tomorrow night around seven?"

"No…I suppose that would be okay."

Draco smiled. "Good then."

*****************************************************************

The following night, Harry and Draco stepped into an extremely posh restaurant to find Michael waiting. He looked frantic.

"Where have you been? The old bastard has been griping at me for nearly half an hour!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it. "Sorry about that. If I'm not mistaken, it's precisely seven pm. I wasn't aware he'd be here early."

Michael took a breath and continued speaking as the three of them walked towards their table. "Well…there's more. He only speaks French. His secretary *forgot* to mention this to me."

Harry started to speak. "But we don't…" 

Before he could finish they had arrived at the table and Draco extended his hand to the man of about sixty already sitting down.

"C'est un plaisir pour vous rencontrer. Je suis désolé vous avoir gardé l'attente. Avez-vous commandé déjà le vin?"

_(It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Have you already ordered wine?)_

Harry felt his mouth drop open. Since when did Draco speak French? He didn't even know. As he dazedly found his seat, he heard Michael speak. 

"Pouvoir je suggère le Ch. Mouton Rothschild 2000 Pauillac, c'est très plein, très excellent."

_(May I suggest the Ch. Mouton Rothschild 2000 Pauillac, it is very full, very excellent.)_

Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming. He felt stupid. He felt embarrassed. He wanted to go home. He vaguely noticed the old man speaking to him, but he didn't understand, so it wasn't like it mattered. He heard Draco answer for him before he cast Harry an apologetic glance. The rest of dinner crept by with Harry poking at his food and counting the minutes until he could go home. Draco must have noticed his discomfort because he felt the boy's hand on his own under the table. Draco gave his hand a small squeeze and offered him a brief smile. When he was finished, he let his hand remain there. The old man cast the two of them a glance, seemingly keen on what was going on. He addressed Draco. 

"Malfoy de monsieur.. Je suis homme de beaucoup d'années. Il y a peu de choses que je veux. Vous êtes un très beau garçon... mais je sens un ruthlessness dans vous qui pourrait être mauvais pour ma santé."

_(Mister Malfoy, I am a man of many years. There are few things I want. You are a very beautiful boy... but I sense a ruthlessness in you that could be bad for my health.)_

Harry noticed Draco raise an eyebrow and he couldn't help but wonder what the man said. Before he could ask, the old man continued. 

"Est-ceci votre garçon?"

_(Is this your boy?)_

Harry felt Draco's hand tighten almost painfully around his own. He was beginning to get concerned before Draco spoke. 

"Je ne le possède pas. ..he n'est pas un objet."

_(I do not own him...he is not an object.)_

The old man's brow quirked as well while Michael rubbed his temples in obvious frustration. 

"Alors je le prends vous ne me laisserez pas. ..borrow...him un peu?"

_(Then I take it you will not let me...borrow...him for a while?)_

Draco dropped his hand and fixed an icy glare on the man. "J'ai dit déjà qu'il n'est pas un objet. Je pense à peine que telles questions sont pertinentes à notre raison pour rencontrer. Si n'avez rien d'importance pour dire, ma présence est non plus longue nécessaire ici."

_(I have already said he is not an object. I hardly think such matters are pertinent to our reason for meeting. If you have nothing of importance to say, my presence is no longer needed here.)_

Before he knew what was going on, Draco stood and motioned for him to do the same. The man had a small smirk on his face while Michael looked noticeably upset. Draco turned to Michael and spoke in English. 

"Charge all of this to me. Make sure Mr. Bellmont gets back to his hotel without breaking a hip. We're leaving. This man is of no interest to me." His eyes were flashing dangerously. 

_'Whatever that man said to Draco must've been pretty bad'_ Harry thought because the deal was obviously important to Michael and he didn't try to stop them from leaving. 

Once the duo made it back to the flat after a very tense and quiet journey home, Harry turned to Draco wanting answers and still quite upset over feeling embarrassed about dinner. 

"Draco…what did that man say to you?"

Draco's brow furrowed at the mention of it. "It was nothing to worry about. He was a simian…nothing more."

Harry flew over to him, incensed. "That is such bullshit. Whatever he said obviously pissed you off and it's bad enough that I couldn't understand a damn word that was being said to or about me. Jesus Draco, I didn't even know you spoke French! Do you even know how stupid I felt sitting there silent all night? I want to know what he said to you!"

After a few moments, Draco still had said nothing, so Harry continued with his rant. "And Michael! I will bet every cent I own that he *knew* he only spoke French!"

Draco finally spoke. "What is that supposed to mean? Do you think he did it just to embarrass you? Why would he do something like that?" He poked his finger at Harry's chest. "You're paranoid Harry."

Harry slapped Draco's finger away from him. "He wants you."

Draco scoffed and leaned against the wall. "Of course he does. I'm essential to his budding career."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "No Draco…he *wants* you."

Draco made a small noise in the back of his throat and his eyes grew, but only slightly. If Harry weren't so trained in his reactions, it might have gone unnoticed. However, in a split second, Draco reverted back to his usual cool demeanor. 

"I told you Harry…you're paranoid."

This time it was Harry who poked a finger at Draco. "Well if I'm so paranoid, then tell me what was said at dinner!"

Draco's eyes narrowed to slits and he grabbed Harry by the wrist. "Do you want to know? He wanted to *buy* you Harry! He wanted me to *lease* you to him in exchange for his business. Like a whore."

Harry's eyes bulged and there was silence for a few moments before he couldn't help it and let out a disgusted. "Eww."

This seemed to break the tension somewhat and Draco smirked. "You wanted to know." He released Harry's wrist. 

Harry rubbed the area, as Draco's grip had been painfully tight. "Thank you then…for leaving. For standing up for me. Really though…that seems…rude."

"Indeed."

Harry sighed. "But Draco…I really was uncomfortable tonight. Please don't ever do that to me again."

Draco returned the sigh. "Honestly Harry, had I known I wouldn't have brought you. I never told you I spoke French because it never came up. My name is French."

"I thought your name was Latin."

"Draco is Latin. Malfoy is French." Draco smirked. "It means 'bad faith'. Did the French really bother you that much Harry?"

Harry absently ran a hand through his hair. "Not the French itself…just being the only one who didn't speak it. To tell you the truth I actually kind of like it. It's…..interesting."

Draco quirked his brow. "Oh?" He stepped closer to Harry. "Vous aimez que les français vous font Arry?"

_(You like the French do you, Harry?)_

Harry blushed and stepped back. "Really now, that's just mean."

Draco moved closer until he was flush with the other boy. He leaned into his ear and whispered, his voice like liquid satin. "Aimez-vous ceci. ..do vous comme ma voix dans votre Oreille Arry?"

_(Do you like this…do you like my voice in your ear Harry?)_

It made Harry's skin tingle. The words seem to solidify and coat him, warm and icy at the same time. Before he could reply, he felt Draco's hand on his waist, one of his fingers slipping into his dress shirt to stroke the skin underneath. His lips were again at Harry's ear. "Aimez-vous quand je vous touche?"

_(Do you like when I touch you?)_

Harry shuddered and let his head fall back against the wall. Draco leaned into him again and whispered, this time in English. "Say 'oui' Harry."

'Oui'…Harry did know what that meant, and gods how he wanted to say it. He wasn't sure what he was saying yes to…but it felt quite promising. Hadn't he just decided he would let him go? Did he feel any different? No. He would let him go…but one thing Harry was now sure of. If he was going to let Draco go…he was certain he'd leave his mark on him first. Harry wrapped his fingers in the platinum hair and closed his eyes in complete surrender. 

"Oui"

Draco moved his mouth from Harry's ear to his neck placing soft and wet kisses all along the tanned column. Harry could hear and feel him murmuring onto his skin in between the kisses. 

"Vous pensez que je vous endommagerai."

_(You think that I will hurt you.)_

His fingers loosened Harry's tie and slipped it off before unbuttoning his shirt with an aching slowness. 

"Parfois je veux vous endommager."

_(Sometimes I want to hurt you.)_

Draco's kisses moved down and across his collar while his long pale fingers slid Harry's shirt off of his shoulders to pool at his elbows. He ceased his ministrations and stepped back to discard his own tie and shirt with much more rapidity. When he returned both of them gasped softly at the first skin to skin contact. Draco recovered first and before long Harry felt more kisses, greater in intensity, trailing down his jaw and neck.

"Nous sommes si jeunes. ..there est beaucoup de voir. ..to apprend."

_(We are so young...there is much to see...to learn.)_

From his viewpoint, Harry could see the head of platinum hair dragging down his chest as it rose and fell, each breath a little quicker than the last. He could feel Draco's chin as it skimmed down his chest and stomach, the boy's smooth skin dusting over and sending electric currents all throughout him.

"Pour le moment ceci fera. ..I pour ainsi faire l'amour pour vous toucher."

_(For now this will do...I do so love to touch you.)_

A kiss was planted onto his stomach and grey eyes cast a glance upward to meet his own. 

"J'aime vous toucher ici.."

_(I love to touch you here...)_

Draco was on his knees now. His hands wrapped around Harry's legs and ran upward, skimming over muscular thighs. Elegant fingers gripped the sides of Harry's legs while two wandering thumbs ran inward to stroke the crease between pelvis and thigh.

"Et ici…"

_(And here…)_

The sinful fingers continued their teasing, moving up and wrapping around Harry's hips. Draco gripped tightly and lifted the hips off the wall and up and back again. 

"Et ici…"

_(And here…)_

He began to unfasten his belt. Hands once shaky and hesitant now nimble and sure. With the belt divested and slacks unfastened, Draco slowly pulled them down letting his touch linger every few seconds. His words were quick and breathless.

"Vous n'a pas d'idée que je dis. ..yet vous l'appréciez si. ..what l'est? C'est les mots que vous êtes s'ignorant de?"

_(You have no idea what I am saying...yet you enjoy it so...what is it? Is it the words you are so ignorant of?)_

Harry threw his head back. His grip on the hair tangled in his fingers tightened. The sensation was too much…it enflamed him and reduced him to ash. But the words…they scattered the ash to nothingness. At that moment, Harry couldn't have remembered his own name had he been asked. Draco continued to speak the words Harry didn't understand, but didn't need to, as he flattened his palms to run them up from Harry's arousal and over his stomach and chest. 

"Ma voix?"

_(My voice?)_

Draco curled his fingers so that his nails could rake along Harry's skin as he dragged them down again, all the time whispering. 

"Mes doigts?"

_(My fingers?)_

Again Harry felt his hips lifted, and he bit his lip. Draco smirked up at him and dipped his tongue into his navel causing Harry to whimper with what would have been a scream if he hadn't bit his lip. 

"Ma langue?"

_(My tongue?)_

His legs no longer able to support him, Harry slid down the wall and was again eye to eye with the predatory Draco who removed his glasses and whispered into his ear. 

"Ferez-vous ces sons pour quelqu'un autrement"

_(Will you make these sounds for anyone else?)_

He snaked his tongue out to run along the shell of the ear, eliciting a moan from the betwitched hero. 

"Après je suis allé. ..your lèvres ne me trahiront pas. Non, ces moans m'appartient…"

_(After I am gone...your lips will not betray me. No, these moans belong to me...)_

Harry's hands finally left Draco's hair and ran along his back to which he made a soft "Hn" noise. Harry propped himself up against the wall with his legs out before him and Draco straddled across his lap. He leaned forward to kiss and suck at the pale neck and Draco leaned into him, bracing himself with one palm against the wall, the other twirling the soft hairs at the base of Harry's neck. 

With his lips occupied, Harry's fingers made quick work of Draco's slacks and the blonde repositioned himself to allow their dismissal. Harry placed him back in his original position and looked up at him. 

"Come here."

Draco moved forward and soon had to be braced by Harry's hands to keep from falling back down. His hips thrust forward on their own accord and his head lolled back. Harry stopped briefly, needing to speak.  

"Keep talking"

At that point, Draco wasn't even entirely sure what he was saying, but since Harry couldn't decipher it…it hardly mattered. Just when he thought the earth had opened up to swallow him whole, Harry withdrew. After a low growl of frustration, Draco calmly stood and padded his way to Harry's room, Harry only two steps behind him. Once inside the door, Draco turned around and slipped his fingers inside the band of Harry's only clothing left…his boxers. Gripping the material, he pulled forward, yanking the former Gryffindor into the room and slamming the door behind him. 

For the first time that night, their mouths met. The kiss was instantly deep and fingers skimmed hair and cheek and back and sides. Within the kiss, the two managed to make their way to the bed and Harry fell first, onto his back with Draco atop him. 

Draco attacked his skin once more, tonguing every spot of flesh his mouth could reach. Harry groped blindly to the side of him at his bedside drawer. Finding what he was looking for, he swept it out and sat it aside. Draco eyed the bottle and reached for it, but Harry's hand stilled him. 

"Do you know what…"

He didn't get to finish, as he was cut off by Draco's scowl. "It doesn't take a genius…even though I am one."

Harry bopped him on the head and laid his head back down to take slow, deep breaths. 

Afterwards, Harry was strangely confident in his decision. The dragon in his arms needed room, or else his wings may break. This thought did not replace the sadness or longing that came with it…but Harry finally understood why there are no cages for dragons…they are not in their nature. A dragon needs to fly before it can claim a home. Harry pulled his dragon close to him felt somewhat saddened. He would not, however, change Draco…not for the world. Running his fingers through the impossibly soft hair once more, he whispered. 

"Fly…and come back home."

He was startled when he realized that Draco was at least partially still awake. 

"Encore nous sommes ici... où rien n'est différent... et rien n'est pareil…"

_(Again we are here... where nothing is different... and nothing is the same...)_

_'Maybe we should talk now…'_ Harry thought and cast one more glance down on the face that was so peaceful right before sleep. _'No…it can wait until tomorrow…'_

Harry Potter drifted into an easy sleep.

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TBC

I love you….don't kill me. *points up* *I* want to have sex like that…..

Please review, Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	7. I should have known you were a pouf

Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them.

A/N: Okay…this came *right* out of my ass. I mean…it's the intended next chapter, I just didn't expect to plop down and start writing like a maniac. I was just sitting here, reading some Yami No Matsuei and dreaming of my silver eyed serial killer Doctor Muraki (shut up Jasmine…as long as he doesn't kill *me* I don't see a problem) and next thing I know I'm typing away. So here you are. I am actually quite pleased with this chapter…so please please let me know what you think. A lot of the reviews for the last chapter got all messed up and I don't know how. A bunch of them I received through email, but they never showed up on ff.net while others popped up on the review page, but never got sent to my email…weird. Anyhoo…here you go. 

NayNymic: Just remember…send it through email…because I have a feeling I'll get an earful for this chapter *grin*. 

Luinlote: Thanks again for your continued support and taking the time to email me. J

Jasmine: you knew it was coming…so don't even try to act wounded. And, as always, thank you…for everything. *smile*

Chapter 6……………I should have known you were a pouf.

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Harry Potter slowly opened his eyes. He blinked blearily, adjusting to the morning light seeping though his window and shaking off the last of the fog that comes with contended, deep sleep. His bed was empty. He could tell. And yet…he smiled. He rolled over to muffle his yawn into his pillow and felt the corners of his mouth lift impossibly high. He wondered briefly what it was that made this particular morning so…warm. He and Draco had certainly had sweeter interludes without such foreboding consequences…yet this smile was different. Perhaps it was completion – the result of sliding home after running the bases for too long. Perhaps it was a right of passage – an undeniably large step into the world of adulthood. The exact situation from the night before had not been unfamiliar (well…verbal foreplay aside), and yet his skin seemed to tingle with the kind of sensation that often meets a newly touched virgin. 

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Harry noticed the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. Listening, he could hear Draco's voice, but the calendar to his left pointing out that it was indeed a Saturday told Harry that Draco shouldn't be working today. Running a hand through his messier than usual mane, Harry padded out to the kitchen, still with a smile plastered on his face. Draco again had his hair pulled back into a short, messy ponytail. The blonde former Slytherin's shirtless and pajama pants clad form was leaning over the counter, his long fingers wrapped around his coffee mug and the phone tucked under his ear. His conversation sounded friendly through the slightly antagonistic banter.

"I can't believe I forgot…I know you're not my secretary, I don't have one yet…well I had *other* things on my mind…none of your business…ha! Wouldn't you like to know!..." Draco turned around and blushed slightly upon seeing Harry. "…I need to get ready, perfection takes time…you flatter me…I'll see you there, goodbye." And he hung up the phone before turning to Harry once more. 

"You're up…I've never seen you sleep like that…like a rock. I could have shagged you again, and I doubt you'd have noticed." Draco smirked. 

"I doubt that." Harry summoned Draco's coffee mug to him, stealing it so that he wouldn't have to make his own. "What are you doing today…there are some things I think we should discuss."

Draco scowled lightly at the serious tone of Harry's voice (not to mention his stolen caffeine). Further explanation would have to wait though. "I have a fundraiser I'm supposed to go to today…completely slipped my mind."

Harry slapped his forehead. "Wizard?"

Draco nodded. 

"For St. Mungo's?"

Again a nod. 

Harry grimaced. "Ugh…I have to go too…my team is supposed to be there. I guess we both forgot. I'd better hop in the shower; I have to meet the rest of the team first so we can arrive as a group, so I'll need to leave before you."

Draco sidled up to Harry and reached his arm forward toward his bare chest, causing Harry to flinch. Just when he had expected contact, Draco's hand slid past him to grip the mug on the table behind his back. Harry rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom. 

***************************************************************

The fundraiser wasn't *as* boring as Draco had expected it to be. The enchanted gardens in which it was being held were quite beautiful. In here it was spring, with green grass and bright flowers completely untouched by the harsh winter of the outside world. Many people avoided him like the plague at first; while a few came up to poke and prod him just to be sure he was actually a Malfoy. After convincing Michael to saunter off and play diplomat without him, Draco made his way to the bar and ordered himself a drink. It wasn't long before a chilly voice behind him caused him to grit his teeth. 

"I should have known you were a pouf."

Draco responded without turning, nor lifting the easy indifference from his voice. "Hello Zabini."

Blaise slithered up next to the blonde and ordered himself a drink. He adopted a sneer and continued to speak. "Heard about that mess with your Father and the Parkinson's. Pity. Do you think Lucius will need a new heir now? I should stop by the Manor and express my interest."

Draco forced his nerves to remain calm…although he wished, not for the first time, that he possessed the ability to *actually* murder someone with a glare. It wasn't going to happen…but he could dream. Still…he had to remind himself that making Blaise eat his glass in small shards here in public was bad for business. "You do that."

Blaise sighed and loosened his tie a bit. "I'm here with Pansy you know. She said she always knew you were queer…judging by a less than stellar performance in bed."

Just then, as if Merlin had opted to intervene and save the life of one Blaise Zabini through interruption, a female voice sliced through the conversation. 

"Actually…she said it was a pity to lose a gorgeous blonde with a fabulously talented tongue to the other team."

Both of the boy's head snapped around and they exclaimed together. "Pansy!" One in surprise…the other in guilty embarrassment. 

The aristocratic girl walked resolutely over to Blaise leaned in to glare at him. "And for the record, I wouldn't be here with you if my parents hadn't shoved me out of the door you ape!" 

Before Draco could stop her from causing a scene, Pansy managed to snatch Blaise's drink from his hands and pour it over the top of his head. While he stood stuttering mumbling curses under his breath, Pansy linked her arm through Draco's and began to lead him away. 

"Walk with me."

Draco nodded and allowed himself to be pulled by his former fiancée. He turned back to wink at Blaise. "Martini is a good look for you."

Arm in arm the two purebloods perused the grounds making idle chatter and smiling. It wasn't long though, before Pansy steered the conversation to more personal matters. 

"So you're living with Harry Potter?"

Draco rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes…yes…isn't that all anyone ever wants to know?"

Pansy returned his dismissive gesture. "Oh come off it…I don't care if it's gossip or not…I worry about you."

Draco kept his voice passive. "How sweet of you, but Pansy, I've never really had a mother…I hardly think I need one at this time."

Pansy stopped walking and yanked him down to the bench to sit with her. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to mother you. It's just that with all the changes you've made lately…you've been quite busy I see…and Potter's season is shaping up to be hectic…the both of you are high profile…isn't it a little too…intense…for you right now?"

Draco patted her arm reassuringly. "Pansy…I'm not marrying *anyone*. I didn't leave the Manor for Pot….Harry. I left because my Father is a bitter, shallow and nearly lifeless man. It just took me a while to see past the man he used to be…the man I *want*…wanted….him to be. I don't ever want another human being to look at me with in such terrible epiphany as I looked at my Father that night."

Pansy silently leaned over and embraced her long time friend and beau. "I know. I'm proud of you Draco…he is too. I know it doesn't seem like it. But when your name makes any kind of news, he gets this look in his eye. It's not anger…more like…sadness. And grudging pride."

"You've seen him then."

She nodded. "Yes, he had us over a few times…to save face again I suppose."

Draco's voice was broken and quiet. "And my mother…."

Pansy squeezed his hand. "I've never known Narcissa well enough to judge. She seems….."

Draco sniffed. "I know…" He took a moment and composed himself. His voice was again strong as he stood and helped Pansy to her feet. "It's good to know that some things never change."

**********************************************************************

Harry entered the garden where the event was being held with the rest of his teammates. He smiled brightly at the waves and stares he received; he was becoming more accustomed to them now. After a few autographs, he ventured further in and let his eyes roam the crowd. A few feet away, he met a black gaze and scowled. Michael. After today, Draco could do as he pleased, but that didn't mean he had to like it, and Harry was displeased with the other man's methods to get what he wanted. Harry Potter didn't like when other people tried to take his things. Draco wasn't his…and he knew this…but as boundaries had not been officially established, Michael's actions still felt somewhat like…stealing. Their eyes met without malice, but more a quiet challenge. As much as Harry was beginning to dislike the pureblood, he had to admit that the man's demeanor was…strong. Strong and regal…it seemed to demand respect. The silent conversation seemed to stretch on for an endless moment. 

At that moment, the chaser with quite possibly the worlds *worst* timing snaked his way to Harry's side and slid his arm around the irritated seeker's shoulders. 

"Ah Harry…making eyes are you. Why don't you ever make eyes at me like that?"

Without so much as a sideways glance Harry spoke in clipped tones. "David? Do you *like* that arm?"

When the chaser removed his limb with a meep (remembering his freshly healed broken nose), Harry refocused his attention back on Michael…but it was too late. The other man had gone. 

Harry sighed and strode forward to find Draco. He had only gotten a few steps in when a man in extremely expensive robes stepped forward to intercept him. The man looked to be in his fifties and had kind but sharp eyes and glasses. What he lacked in height, he made up for in presence and he held a fat cigar in his fingers. 

"Harry Potter. Merlin, you're every bit what they make you out to be my boy."

Harry extended his hand. "Thank you sir. And you are?"

"Arthur Bramble…I own your quidditch team."

Harry's eyes grew wide and he cursed himself for not knowing the man who handed him his career. "Mr. Bramble…I'm so sorry. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The older man smiled jovially and shook his head. "No need to worry. I don't really make a point of putting myself in the public view. Come and sit with me my boy…I have something I'd like to ask you."

****************************************************

"So let me get this straight. You want *me* to endorse Firebolt brooms…which you also own?"

The short man nodded and tapped the ash from his cigar. "Who better Mr. Potter? The salary for your time will be a little more than what you are currently making and of course I won't take time away from your quidditch games. I can't lose my best player now can I?"

Harry mulled over this for a moment. _'I'll be making over *twice* what I make now.'_ It's not like endorsing the brooms was a problem…he believed in them as a product and was steadily becoming used to being an icon. 

He raised his eyebrows. "What's the catch?"

The man smiled. "No catch. You'll get to see some wonderful parts of the world when you aren't playing for me. You'll miss some practice…but it's hardly like you need it. All travel expenses will be paid for, of course."

Aye…there's the rub. He would have to be gone…a lot. The prospect was quite appealing and yet…he wasn't so sure about being *so* far from Draco so soon. Maybe it would be good…provide him the necessary time to sever some ties…and yet…he felt a knot in his stomach with the thought. He felt like part of him was needed. Draco was still new to all of this and had yet to be totally alone. He had to admit that his life had been much better, if not more confusing, since the blonde's arrival as well. Deciding he needed to talk to Draco before he could give his answer he excused himself and promised to be back by the close of the evening with his decision. 

He left to find his…his…he left to find Draco. 

**************************************************

Michael wandered through the gardens aimlessly. He'd spoken to all that could be beneficial or interesting to him and now he had just one person he wanted to see. And yet…Draco had yet to be found. He wondered why the former Slytherin would hide away and began to worry. His thoughts of worry were distracted by a thin trail of smoke wafting over the hedges. Peering over them, he recognized the platinum hair of Draco Malfoy. The boy was leaning against a tree with is head leaned back, cigarette every now and again reaching his lips to slowly poison him. He seemed…introspective. Michael was tempted to just stay where he was and watch. It seemed inherently wrong to disturb him somehow…like the moment of quiet splendor had not been meant for human eyes. However, after a long moment, the urge to be close to Draco…to touch him drown in his grey…overwhelmed him. He approached the tree casually and sat across from the blonde, saying nothing. 

It was Draco who spoke first. "It's peaceful here."

Michael said nothing but nodded his head and closed his eyes to a soft breeze. 

"Did I miss anything?"

Michael smiled lightly and shook his head. "Nothing I couldn't handle. Why are you sitting here all alone? Did something happen, Draco?"

Draco shook his head. "No…just…thinking."

"Ah…dangerous…the mind. Anything I might find of interest?"

Draco snorted. "I doubt it…unless you want my sad and useless family history."

Michael fixed his gaze and moved closer to the distant boy against the tree. "No part of you is sad, or useless. I want to know everything about you."

Draco remained detached. "There isn't much to know."

Michael moved closer still and extended his arm beyond Draco's head, brushing the pale cheek as he did so. When he drew his hand back, a butterfly rested serenely on his fingers. The insect's wings were a swirl of blue and grey streaked by thin, electric silver. The creature was hypnotic in its beauty. Both men marveled at it in silence for a moment before Michael lifted his piercing gaze to Draco and spoke softly.

"If you touch their wings, they die. It seems cruel…to create something so beautiful that one should feel such need to possess it, but in doing so destroys it instead."

Draco's breath caught at the intense stare and profound words. He discarded his cigarette and reached his hand forward to give the butterfly perch on his own fingers, but his hand was caught in another's strong grip. Before he could ask any questions, he was pulled forward and soft lips that tasted faintly of amber and honey met his own. Startled, Draco's eyes went wide and his free hand stilled in mid-air. The hand around his own shifted and he felt his fingers intertwined with those of his companion. When a soft tongue swiped across his lip Draco's eyes involuntarily closed while his lips parted. His hand finally sought purchase on Michael's shoulder and gripped tightly, twisting the other's robes in his fingers. The other man felt strong and solid beneath his fingers, while his taste was sweet and rich. Everything about him said that this was a man, not a boy, pressing into him. Draco's mind went momentarily blank and all was still.

The butterfly danced away on a spring breeze that carried with it soft kisses and warm breath. 

*************************************************************

Harry was beginning to get worried. He'd scanned over most of the party and still hadn't found any sign of Draco. Interrupting his thoughts, a butterfly flit passed him, almost skimming his nose. He wrinkled his nose with the slight tickle the thought gave him and held out his hand for the pretty insect to land. Once perched, she stilled her movements, her wings flitting out occasionally. Harry smiled at the creature. Butterflies were one of the only insects he would tolerate, their beauty making up for their general…ickyness. 

Continuing with his walk, Harry rounded a corner to a more secluded area of the gardens. He shifted his gaze around for a moment, scanning left and then right. He stopped cold. The sight that met him should have enraged him. It should have sent him flying into hysterics that someone else would be so close to the boy that had only the night before occupied his bed. But it didn't. Harry felt…sadness. It was an aching sadness that ran so much deeper than jealousy or anger. It was the same sadness that he would feel sometimes when it rained and the sky was grey…it almost made him weep at times…as if he was seeing the rain for the first time. It was a realization…and he thought he might go blind from the combination of bleakness and beauty. He knew then…that he wasn't needed. He was sure he was wanted…and fairly certain he was loved in some indefinable way…but needed he was not. Anything that Draco needed he could procure himself…in his own way. The thought made Harry strangely…proud…even if the sight before him made him want to tear his eyes from their sockets for the overload it caused his brain. Maybe it was the fact that his stomach had dropped to his knees…maybe it was seeing the dragon from such an objective viewpoint…but for whatever reasons, Harry was rooted to the spot, transfixed. Just when the pain edged in and began to force him to move, the kiss broke. Against his better judgment, Harry stayed and listened to conversation that took place immediately thereafter. 

Draco's eyes were again huge as realization dawned on him and he scooted back a few inches. "What….why….hmmmm…."

Michael simply smiled his easy, confident smile. "That….was a kiss….I'm shocked really…you seemed quite proficient."

Draco remained shocked. "I *know* what it was. But why….what about Andrew?"

Michael leaned back with his elbows in the soft grass, but not before reaching out and running his fingers over Draco's cheek once more. "No need to get testy. You could have pushed me away, you know. I'm not a monkey. If you don't want me to kiss you, I won't. And Andrew knows…he's not stupid. He called me on it immediately actually."

Draco slumped back and dug for another cigarette. "But I thought…."

Michael cut him off. "I *do* love him…but you've done something to me…and I'm not sure what. We do have unfinished business from a while back if you remember. If it were something I could control…I would. He knows as well as I do that I can't spend the rest of my life with him while I still desire you."

Draco was taken aback by the bluntness of his Michael's words. He felt somehow out of his league now, and his voice was small. "That just seems…I don't know…wrong…"

Michael chuckled. "And what of Harry Potter, then?"

Draco answered honestly. "I don't know…when I left home it seemed natural to go to him. To want him back…but now…I feel like my whole life is different. Like it would be wrong to tie either of us down so soon…besides…we hadn't really gotten back together…there are no…titles, I suppose. But you…I thought you were…devoted…to him."

"I am…in my way. He is a lot like me…it's one of the reasons I'm with him in the first place. What is the concept of right and wrong when weighed against one's happiness? Why would anyone deny themselves the chance to explore before things are *too* serious? For morality? Morality is a political term…true morality is intensely personal and cannot be defined."

Before Michael could continue with his rant, a rustle in the bushes snapped both of the pureblooded wizards' attention. Lowered green eyes met wide grey and amused black. Before anything could be said, Michael stood and helped a dazed Draco to his feet. Harry smiled faintly at Draco, both of them feeling a bit sick. Draco suddenly announced that he was going home and Michael smiled at both he and Harry. As he prepared to leave the garden, Michael turned back to Draco but spoke loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Si vous le pneu de jeux enfantins…me trouve. Je ne toucherai pas votre vole…"

_(If you tire of childish games…find me. I will not touch your wings…)_

With no response, Draco simply took off, seemingly calm. Harry knew what often lurked beneath the calm exterior though and made to give chase, but a strong arm stopped him. 

"Let him go."

Harry turned, ready to hex this man into next Tuesday…but he was already gone. 

_'I wish he'd stop doing that' _Harry thought angrily. 

Instead of running home, Harry found Mr. Bramble. The old man was quite happy to see him and promptly introduced him to all that he had been talking to. They all knew who he was already. After the conversations, Mr. Bramble turned to Harry and asked him "So…how can I help you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry took one last look around. 

"I'll do it."

*************************************************

TBC

Gah! I love him…sorry…I do. I love them all…I want one of each…it's only fair….

Please review.

Love and Kisses, Reika


	8. The first day

Disclaimer: I still don't own them…how sad for me.

A/N: This chapter is shorter than the rest. I would have made it longer…but everything needed for this chapter is here and I think it needs to stand alone. There will be another one soon. The story is finally to a point where I'm excited about it…so the chapters should come pretty quickly. This one was a lot of fun with the character work, even though it's short. Please read and review. 

Oh…by the way, yes, I had to use an online translator, as I do not speak French. If anyone is willing to translate for me, send me an email and let me know. There won't be much of it from this point and it's a long way off until it will show up at all. The only point of the sentence in the last chapter was so that Michael could speak and know Harry couldn't understand him. So yes…let me know.

Thanks Jasmine…you know you still love me. : )

Chapter 7…………The first day.

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Finally the end to a very long and very confusing day had come and Harry Potter was glad to be home. He'd spent the better part of the afternoon and evening answering questions and signing autographs after it became known that he would endorse Firebolt. All he had wanted to do was come home, change his clothes, and talk to Draco. Only…Draco wasn't home. He said he was going home…so where was he? All the lights were off and the flat looked deserted. Harry trod to Draco's bedroom door and knocked, calling his name. No answer. Pushing the door open, his thoughts were confirmed…Draco was not home. Sighing, Harry went into his room and changed his clothes. 

About an hour later, Harry heard the door opening and didn't turn to see who it was. Instead he called out from his spot on the sofa. 

"Hi. I thought you said you were coming home."

"I took a walk."

Now Harry turned. "For 6 hours?"

Draco nodded. 

"Well where did you walk for so long?"

He heard Draco sigh and remove his shoes. Apparently his feet were tired after his excursion. "Everywhere…nowhere…"

Harry decided not to question Draco's vague and enigmatic answer. Instead he pat the couch beside him and motioned for Draco to sit. Draco did so. 

"We need to talk."

Draco started immediately. "Look, Harry…I didn't mean for you to see what you saw. I didn't even mean for it to happen…it wasn't like I was asked…."

Harry cut off his rambling. "It's okay. That's not what I want to talk about."

Draco quirked a brow. "It's not?"

Shaking his head, Harry thought for a moment. "Well…it is…but it isn't. I think…I think it's time for you to go…"

"You do?"

Harry continued with a nod, a little more confident. "Yeah…ever since you showed up on my doorstep we've been doing this odd dance and I think it's time for it to end…for now. Don't get me wrong…I'd take you in again if given the choice, but you have your own life now…and it's good for you. I just took a job offer today that's going to have me gone most of the time. I think…I think it's time we grew up Draco."

Draco nodded, but kept his gaze low. "It's still kind of sad…don't you think?"

Harry lifted the blonde's chin so that he could look him in the eyes. "Yeah…I do. Things could be a lot worse though…we could have thrown caution to the wind and picked up where we left off. Only…this isn't Hogwarts. I'm no longer just a Gryffindor and you a Slytherin. Can you imagine where we'd be if we'd tried that and the real world caught up? It would tear us to pieces."

Draco smiled a little. "You're right. I've been thinking…and I have no idea what's going to happen with my future…and I kind of like that. I think we both have things we need to do. I am sorry about today though….and Harry?"

"Hm?" Harry waited. 

"I'm sorry about graduation too. I know I should have said so earlier…but well…this whole apology thing is new to me. And I would have done it sooner if I thought it would change anything."

"I know."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for…everything." Draco leaned forward and placed a solid kiss to Harry's lips. The kiss was strong, but did not linger. He then stood and headed for his room to pack his things. Harry called to his retreating back. 

"You don't have to leave tonight, Draco…I know it might take a little while to find somewhere."

Draco turned and smiled. "Yes I do Harry…you know as well as I do that if I don't go now, I never will."

With a little sadness, Harry nodded. "Yeah….I guess you're right. Where are you going?"

Draco's smile turned to a smirk. "I'm not going to Michael if that's what you're asking. That was an *interesting* experience today, but I generally don't agree with people grabbing at me. I'll go to a hotel for a few days. I'll hire a realtor tomorrow. That should speed things up a bit."

The two shared a smile before Harry got up. "I'll help you pack."

******************************************************************

The next morning Harry Potter woke up and felt the emptiness of his apartment. The scent of coffee did not waft in to him and the rest of the flat remained silent. Not wanting to get up just yet, he pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to go back to sleep. It was a Sunday after all, and the November chill crept in whether he had the heat on or not. He had almost succeeded when his phone began to ring. Remembering that there was no one else to answer it, he groaned and got out of bed, not bothering with his glasses just yet and stumbled towards the phone. 

"It had better be *damn* good" he answered.

"Harry?"

"Oh…Draco. Good, er, morning."

"My you slept late. I'm sorry to call you so soon; I just wanted to tell you that I got a mobile this morning. Ha! My ancestors must be begging Satan to let them up for a chance to flog me. I wanted to give you the number in case you needed anything."

Harry smiled, always amused with Draco's wit. "Sure…let me get a pen."

*******************************************************************

After a quiet morning of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet, Harry decided to owl Ron and Hermione. He had a bit of free time now and since he'd be traveling more, he'd see them even less than he did now. He had no doubts that Ron would be glad to hear of Draco's departure from his home. 

The three of them decided on getting dinner at a muggle restaurant. Harry hadn't been out in a while and ventures into the muggle world never ceased to amaze Ron. At six o'clock, Harry heard his two best friends floo into his living room. Hermione immediately hugged him, almost knocking him over and congratulating him on his new job. 

_'Wow…news travels fast.'_ Harry thought as he returned the bushy haired girls embrace. He looked over at Ron who was darting his gaze all over the flat. When he seemed satisfied, Ron turned to Harry. 

"So where's the git?"

_'Okay…maybe not all news.'_

"He moved out."

Ron eyed him warily. "Really? What brought this on?"

Harry shrugged. "I caught him shagging my whole quidditch team and smoking crack in the bathroom."

Harry would have given everything he owned for a picture of Ron's expression. The poor boy looked like he'd had a particularly nasty visual image that he'd never rid himself of. 

Harry laughed and pat Ron on the back. "Calm down Ron…we both have things we need to do…that's all. It was a mutual agreement."

Much to his surprise, Ron used Harry's position of patting him on the back to pull his friend into a loose (and manly of course) hug. After overcoming his initial shock, Harry returned the gesture. Ron spoke softly to him…an almost whisper.

"You alright mate?"

 "Yeah…I'm fine, but thanks for caring." Harry replied with a smile. "That's why I asked you to dinner…I thought you'd want to celebrate!"

Ron smiled at the joke, but kept his tone serious. "I'm proud of you Harry."

"Well, if we are through with male bonding time…could we eat? I'm famished."

Both boys turned to Hermione who put one arm around each of her favorite men before the three of them set out to enjoy the evening. 

************************************************************

Draco entered his hotel room and grumpily shrugged off his coat. He'd *hoped* to be a little further along with his flat hunting. He'd *hoped* to at least look at a few places today. He hadn't been through five flats today…he'd been through five realtors. The picky young man had found something inherently wrong with the first four agents. There was just something…*off*…about them. He had scrutinized every aspect of them…their speech, dress, hairstyle…all the way down to the condition of their fingernails. After all…this was going to be the person Draco trusted to find him a *home*. His first home. He had to be careful. After three very upset agents of varying ages and one very blubbering young man (how was he supposed to know it was his first day on the job…they really should be more careful with their personnel…just because he'd told him he had the IQ of a fork and would sooner take realty advice from a blind leper…really…that's no reason to *cry*) he'd found his choice agent. Smart, young, born wealthy and with an impeccable sense of style. Draco felt that she could find him a suitable place to live, surely. 

So after a grueling day, Draco looked forward to taking a shower, ordering room service and watching infomercials. They fascinated him somehow. Maybe it was because they were the first things he'd ever seen on television…maybe it was because Draco loved to buy things. For whatever reason…they were his guilty pleasure and he was quite looking forward to them. 

Tomorrow would be work again…and more flat hunting. And Michael. He had to face him some time…better sooner rather than later. Draco had no idea what he would say…or even what he thought about the situation. He liked the dark haired man who was two years his senior…but still…the notion seemed to Draco like he would be leaving one complicated situation for another. Especially since the other pureblood made it clear that he was serious about his current beau. What did Michael want from him? With a groan, Draco realized that he left Harry's because he needed time to *not* think…and that's exactly what he intended to do. He would cross his bridges as he came to them. But for now, he would revel in a hot shower and hope the sound of the water could drown out his thoughts. 

***************************************************************

Harry hugged his best friends goodbye as they prepared to floo home. Ron was a bit tipsy, but nothing unmanageable. After an extremely enjoyable evening, two thirds of the famous Gryffindor trio left Harry to his silence once more. 

He was strangely comforted by the stillness. In an odd way, it reminded Harry that this was *his* home…these were *his* things…this was *his* life. And there was much of it to come. 

Harry Potter had always been a strong person. Strong, reliable, funny and terribly endearing. 

He slipped into his room to change into his pajamas and plopped onto his couch to watch some telly. Flipping on the set he smiled and rolled his eyes.

….infomercials…

********************************************************************

TBC

Short, I know…but the focus of the story has shifted now…so they layout will be a bit different since our two main characters aren't going to be together all the time. 

Please review.   
  


Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	9. What the hell was that?

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. They fuel me, so keep em coming! Poor Michael has gotten crazy death threats and has therefore fled to an undisclosed location for his own safety. *grin* But don't worry…he'll be here when I need him. Since I'm god and all. 

Anyways, Thanks, Jasmine and Liz (*glomps* I can't tell you how much it means that you like my story, my lizbear.).

Chapter 8……………What the hell was *that*?

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It was funny, Harry thought, how such mundane things could make so much noise. Before, when two bodies occupied his flat, he hadn't noticed the sound of the refrigerator as it ran, or the pipes settling. Now the sounds seem to ring in his ears, irritating him. This was his last day off before he began his new job. He had been to see Mr. Bramble and had signed all the appropriate papers, and tomorrow he would be traveling to Ireland to tell all of the Irish witches and wizards how very much the Famous Harry Potter loved his Firebolt broom. He was excited, yes, but also nervous. He had never traveled that far, nor endorsed anything. As with everything in his life, he hoped to do his best.   
  
His teammates had thrown him a party two days prior to congratulate him on his new position. Of all the handshakes and sloppy "Congraddss Heery"s he received, only Paul seemed to notice the fallaciousness of his bright smile. The larger man had pulled him aside and demanded to know the reason for his anxiousness. Harry had, of course, lied and blamed it solely on nerves. It was obvious that Paul didn't buy it, but thankfully, he hadn't pressed the issue.   
  
The truth was, Harry still had qualms about leaving the area Draco would be flitting about, now a completely single man. He did not regret his decision, yet, the thought still made him squirm. Was that not normal? Of course it was. Did this fact lessen the uneasy feeling? No.   
  
Harry wrinkled his nose in thought. This was exactly why he had taken the job. If he didn't put some space between them, there would be no telling how long these feelings would persist.   
  
Groaning, Harry wished he could just shut his brain off. Suddenly, another sound caught his attention – the television. He'd had it on as a distraction, with the volume low, hardly paying it any attention. Apparently the current station was a music program. Harry didn't recognize the song, but it was fast, upbeat and almost irritatingly catchy. Without thinking about it, he turned the volume up to a suitable level…but didn't stop there. Soon, the music blared all throughout his flat and, more importantly, his brain. He could no longer hear the refrigerator, the pipes, or the phone if it rang. It was loud…too loud to think, and Harry thanked Merlin for it.   
  
Again with no spared thoughts to his actions, Harry found himself leaping off of his sofa in his socked feet and sliding across the floor. He spun…he jumped…he shouted for no reason…he lost his glasses…he clambered onto his sofa and leapt from the arm to the floor where he sprawled out panting and wondering just what had brought on his sudden outpour of energy. He felt spent and…oddly sated. Flopping one of his arms across his face and over his eyes, Harry laughed out loud.   
  
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Draco was pissed. He'd looked at what seemed like millions of apartments and had yet to find *the one*. So here he was in his hotel room, homeless and bored…*again*.   
  
He sighed. He'd barely spoken to Michael since the incident in the gardens, giving the man a week off and leaving no room for argument. He'd been confused and unwilling to deal with it at his current juncture. Of course, having Michael gone meant he had to handle many things himself that would have been delegated to the more experienced man. This kept Draco busy, but he was grateful for the distraction, as well as the chance to learn.   
  
But now, flat on his back with no one to talk to, he almost welcomed the intrusion. Draco dug out his phone; fascination with the device subsided greatly, and looked at it. To anyone else, it would seem as if he were expecting the phone to make the call itself. But no, Draco was thinking…hard.   
  
'Better check the number, just to be sure…' He thought as he flipped through his address book.   
  
He found what he was looking for and long, determined fingers pressed the numbers.   
  
*ring*   
  
*ring*   
  
*ring*   
  
*ring*   
  
*ring*   
  
'Damn…no answer…well, I guess Harry's out doing…something.'   
  
Ending the unsuccessful call, Draco shrugged and grabbed for his coat. He'd seen a small gallery a few blocks away for local artists. He'd yet to venture inside the place, and it interested him. The art could have been made from trashcans and molten lava and he would have been grateful to see it. Anything was better than another afternoon in his bathrobe. He set out onto the street and headed for the gallery.   
  
When Draco stepped inside, he smiled. The art made him feel strangely at home. He wasn't much of an artist, visually anyways, but he held a deep appreciation for those who were and for their work. He was greeted by an attractive girl and slowly walked around, liking some displays more than others. He began to think that he might buy a few pieces when he at last had walls to place them on when he stopped dead in his tracks. He found it hard to breathe as he stared into his own face.   
  
The painting…it was…him. He hadn't sat for any painting. There were no pictures of him floating around, that he knew of. Who could have painted such a likeness? It was like a mirror, only deeper. The colors splayed across canvas seemed to paint more than just his pretty face…but a part of his soul. There was so much…life. The Draco in the portrait sat simply, with one leg on the ground and the other bent at the knee. His arms were draped over his knee. Although his head bent down, his eyes looked up, piercing steel in color and in feeling. A small, knowing smile adorned his face and Draco felt almost…scared…to look at himself like that. Continuing to look at the painting, Draco saw the wings. Butterfly wings. They were dark and jagged along the edges with streaks of silver coursing through them like veins. Not feminine but still…delicate. He knew instantly who'd done the painting. Still…with no other resources, the amazing likeness had come from memory? The thought was almost overwhelming that someone could know his face so well. He reached a shocked hand forward and palmed the painting, fingers spread over the surface trying to take the image into his being. Suddenly a voice startled him.   
  
"Sir…you're not allowed to touch the paintings."   
  
Draco turned to see the girl from earlier who obviously worked there. He muttered an apology and didn't notice her suddenly realize as well that he was the one in the picture. Without the use of his neurons, Draco turned on his heel and ran from the gallery. He ran and ran and ran. He didn't know exactly where he was running, or what he was running from…only that he needed to run. When the heat from his coat became too much to bear he shrugged it off and left it in the street, soon followed by his sweater and undershirt. All too soon, Draco Malfoy ran through the streets of London in late November shirtless and oblivious to the looks of both criticism and approval.   
  
He didn't know how long or how far he ran, but eventually he slowed and soon became cold. His breath came in harsh pants; his lungs continually unsatisfied with the intake of air. When he'd calmed himself enough to not look crazed, he stepped into the nearest clothing store to cover his bare torso and ignored the giggling of the salesgirls as he entered.   
  
His thoughts dwelled on the painting and why it had almost made him weep. He'd always known he was an attractive boy, and later, man. He usually noticed when both men and women let out small sighs when he entered a room. He was a brilliant, handsome, witty man. Modest? Not so much. But *never* had Draco considered himself beautiful. That painting was beautiful. It displayed not only a stunning face and body but also an underlying gothic beauty that seemed to beckon any fly into the web. It was almost…vampiric. Draco was stunned, not only by the sight of the painting itself, but of the realization that another human being saw him in such a way. He was confused, bewildered and…intrigued. He *had* to know more…had to know why…   
  
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Michael came walking into the storefront with a friendly smile for the girl who worked there.   
  
"Was there anything else you wanted moved in the back?"   
  
The girl eyed him for a moment. "No…thanks for your help, since you have the time off and all." She paused, unsure of whether or not to continue. In the end…she charged ahead. "That guy…in your painting…he was here a moment ago. I didn't recognize him at first…but he saw it and kind of freaked out. He had his hand on it and I told him he couldn't touch the paintings…then he just took off. I don't know where he went though."   
  
Michael was already heading for his coat. "Interesting…very interesting."   
  
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Harry finally turned the volume down after he had ceased his laughing. He wiped a few tears that had leaked from his sudden hilarity and rose from the floor. He noticed a blinking light on his answering machine and pressed the button to replay the message.   
  
Silence.   
  
"Hmmm" he noised aloud. "They must've hung up. Oh well…I'm sure they would've left a message had it been important."   
  
He was just about to hop into the shower and wash away the sweat of the afternoon when he noticed an unfamiliar owl at his window. Letting the creature in, he slipped a rolled piece of parchment from her leg and began to read.   
  
Harry Potter,   
  
I have heard, through many sources, that you are currently taking care of my son. As my distaste for you is public knowledge, I will not insult you with false niceties. I have only one point to make, and that is that, regardless of your relationship to my only son, Draco is still my heir. I do not, in any way, approve of his decisions or current situation. I certainly do not approve of his choice of partner. However, as it is not my choice to make, let me say this. My son is a strong young man, the most impressive I have seen. This is due, largely, to me. He has hopefully confused himself and will soon return to the life that awaits him at my side. Until that time comes, it is in your hands he has chosen to rest. I suggest to you that you take the utmost care in the position you have been given. There are things far more valuable to my son than his inheritance. I will not take kindly to any damage that is done to them. If, when Draco returns to me, he informs me of any pain he has suffered in any way you will have to answer to me. I would also suggest you keep this letter to yourself. It is addressed to you, and meant for you only. Showing this to Draco will only give him a false hope for acceptance that is not, at this time, waiting for him. It will only cause him pain, and I believe I have established what pain for my son means for you. I trust we have an understanding, Mr. Potter.   
  
Lucius Malfoy.   
  
'Whoa' Was all Harry could seem to think.   
  
Draco's father had written *him*? Why? It seemed, in Lucius' politically vague language of his own that he was concerned for Draco's welfare…worried about him even. Harry had thought Malfoy senior capable of many things…emotional concern wasn't one of them. Immediately, he wanted to call Draco…to tell him of the letter…to give him hope and make him smile. However, he remembered the last part of the letter. If it was true, and it most likely was, it *would* only hurt Draco in the end. The letter would undoubtedly send him to his father who would turn him away…and Harry wasn't so sure Draco could handle that again.   
  
It seemed so sad…that there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even do as the letter wished…Draco was no longer his to care for….   
  
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With a sigh, Draco stepped back onto the London pavement. He was newly adorned in unnecessarily expensive clothes, but didn't seem to care as he slipped a cigarette between his lips and tried to remember how he'd gotten there.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco took notice of a shock of black hair and the arm of an expensive coat. He resisted the urge to shout over to Michael, as he was still unsure of what he would say. So instead he ducked into a corner and crouched down low, waiting for the coast to be clear. He sat there a few moments, catching his breath until a tap on his shoulder startled him. He whipped around to find himself staring at the one person he was trying to hide from.   
  
"I never pegged you for one who liked to sulk in alleys."   
  
Draco stood and set his cool demeanor in place. He ran a hand through his hair and avoided the other's eyes. "I was just taking a break. What are you doing here? I thought I told you to take a week off."   
  
Michael smiled and leaned against the wall. "I am taking a week off. I was helping a friend of mine at the gallery when she told me about this interesting blonde man who had an unusual reaction to one of my paintings."   
  
Draco tried to keep the blush from his cheeks, but failed miserably. He opted for another tactic to preserve his detached position. "Well what do you expect? I didn't go in there expecting to see my own face."   
  
"You liked it then?"   
  
"It was…unnerving."   
  
Michael smirked. "Well…I didn't mean to *unnerve* you. I just had some time on my hands with my sudden vacation and all."   
  
There was silence for a moment, as both men knew the conversation could take two very different turns. After fidgeting with his hands for a long time, Draco lifted his eyes and found Michael staring at him intently. His confusion and curiosity overwhelmed him and he could not help raising his voice.   
  
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?!"   
  
Michael seemed surprised, as if he hadn't even noticed he'd been looking in the first place. "Sorry…like what?"   
  
Draco narrowed his eyes in anger and something else he couldn't name. He pointed his finger at the other's face. "Like *that*!…Like you want to eat me!"   
  
The darker man crossed his arms over his chest. "I hadn't realized I looked at you any sort of way. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable."   
  
Draco mimicked his gesture and crossed his arms, but kept his gaze on the ground so as not to betray any nervousness on his part. "Is that all you're sorry for?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
He looked up. "But you've…all the trouble…"   
  
Michael ran his fingers through his shiny black hair and Draco found himself wondering if the strands felt as soft as they looked. Luckily, before his traitorous hand could reach out to see, Michael spoke.   
  
"Really, Malfoy. I'm not some house elf, full of mischief and running around to create trouble. You were in a stagnant situation…I thought a small shove could help the both of us out."   
  
Draco felt a surge of anger. "I don't *need* your help. It overrides the entire point of being here on my own if everyone is constantly trying to *help* me. And now I have to constantly question your motives. It makes me wonder just why you wanted to *help* me in the first place. I have to wonder if Harry was right…if you did sabotage him that night at dinner…"   
  
He turned, fully intent on marching out of the alley and figuring out just where the hell he was, but his arm was caught in a rather painful grip, forcing him to turn back around and look into an angry face. "Now you listen to me. I may not be the most…subtle…person in the world, but I *am* honest. Just because I actually try to get something that I want does not mean that I resort to any methods to do so…" He poked a finger at Draco's chest, incensed. "…*You* are the Slytherin…not me. And if you really want to know something about the real world…and being out here on your own, well here it is!" He moved his hand with lightning speed. The finger that had been poking at Draco now aided the rest of his hand in pulling the stunned boy forward into a harsh kiss.   
  
Draco did not relent, nor struggle, but he remained passive in his shock. When his brain finally resembled something with more solidity than soup, he made to push the taller man away…but was too late. Michael had already broken the kiss and stepped back. He placed his hands in his pockets and eyed Draco for a moment before speaking in a voice that was low, controlled and undeniably sexy.   
  
"I look at you like that because that is how I *see* you. You're beautiful." A pause. "Not everything turns out as planned, Draco. *That* is real life." And with that said, he sauntered away without so much as a look over his shoulder, leaving Draco to sink to the ground, wishing for it to swallow him whole.   
  
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Draco wasn't sure how long he sat there, but night had fallen when his phone began to ring. He plunged his hand into his pocket and rooted around with benumbed fingertips until he made contact with the device. When he pressed it to his face, the metal, warmed by his pocket, felt soothing against his frozen ear.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Draco?…Draco, what's wrong?"   
  
"Harry…nothing, I'm just…cold."   
  
There was silence on the other end. Harry was obviously thinking, trying to decipher Draco's tone of voice. Finally he spoke in a cheerful, yet somewhat worried tone. "Well go inside where it's warm. You aren't any good to anyone sick. I leave for Ireland tomorrow, and I thought maybe you wanted to get dinner or…something. I'll be gone for several weeks. If you're busy though…"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"…Yes…"   
  
"Well…do you want to meet me here then?"   
  
"That would be fine, I'll be there soo…" Draco stopped mid sentence and surveyed his surroundings. "Harry…this may sound odd but…I haven't the faintest idea where I am."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I'm in an alley…I was sitting here thinking, but I don't remember how I got here. It's night now…I don't think I can find my way."   
  
Draco felt his eye twitch as Harry's riotous laughter came pouring through the phone. "Really now…it's not *that* funny…this is a rather large city, I'd think it'd be terribly easy for anyone to get lost."   
  
Slowly, Harry calmed. "Alright, alright. Just describe where you are and I'll see if I can figure it out."   
  
***************************************************************   
  
Draco pulled his coat around him tighter, trying to ward off the unrelenting night chill. Harry had seemed confident that he could figure out where he was, and now he had but to wait. He had just relaxed a bit when a voice from behind startled him.   
  
"Hey there pretty Dragon. Are you lookin' for a date?"   
  
Draco turned, snarling and ready to attack. When he did he met, surprisingly, a kind and familiar face. Harry leaned against the wall, smirking.   
  
"That was *not* funny. I was about to attack you, you know? I'd have ripped you to shreds. They'd never identify you."   
  
Harry's smirk remained intact. "Ooh. Scary."   
  
The two began to walk toward a better part of town where they could find a restaurant. Their bantering continued the whole way.   
  
"Damn right it is. And I am *not* pretty."   
  
"Yes you are."   
  
"That's it…I'm calling a hit man. Pack your shit and run Potter. No one calls Draco Malfoy pretty and lives."   
  
Harry chuckled. "Oh, and here I thought I had special privileges…you're right though…you aren't pretty. You're beautiful."   
  
Draco stopped.   
  
Harry sighed and turned to him. "What? If this is the woman thing again, I've already told you…no, Draco, you don't look, act like or even remotely resemble a female in any way…I don't know why you're so sensit…"   
  
"That's not it. Let's just eat…okay?"   
  
Harry eyed him, puzzled. "Sure thing…are you sure you're alright?"   
  
"I'm fine, I just want to catch up with you…hmph…I need to see how you're surviving without my constant masculine strength to support you."   
  
If it weren't for the smirk, Harry might have believed he was serious. Draco was, after all, known to say some pretty outrageous things. He threw his hand to his forehead in a dramatic gesture and leaned against Draco's shoulder. He spoke with far too much enthusiasm. "Oh god! How will I survive?! The great and wondrous Draco Malfoy has left my side…I am dooooomed!"   
  
Draco was not amused.   
  
"Better order a side of talent with your meal, Potter."   
  
******************************************************   
  
  
Throughout dinner they talked excitedly with one another. Harry recalled his hectic week, the signing of contracts and preparations for trips to far away lands. Draco spoke of all that he had learned when he'd been forced to take the reigns with his business. After a while, the conversation turned to other things – wizard politics, broom preferences, different spells, and marvels of the muggle world. When the waiters began to flip the empty chairs around them on top of the tables and the sound of a vacuum sliced through their conversation, the two realized they'd been sitting and talking for close to 3 hours.   
  
They shared a glance of mutual surprise and simultaneously began to laugh, ignoring the annoyed glares of the wait staff. After a brief argument over who would pay the bill (which Harry won upon the threat of exposing Draco's affinity for talking to strangers when drunk), they again set out into the night. Harry pulled his coat on tighter, glancing sideways at Draco who was doing the same. 

"I can't believe we were in there so long. It's a good thing I'm already packed."

Draco nodded. "I know…I had no idea we were sitting there for three hours."

He glanced around as they continued their stroll, confusion taking over his countenance. "Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Where are we going?"

Harry stopped and a small chuckle escaped his lips. "You know something? I have no clue…I was just walking."

"Well where are we?"

Harry put his hand on Draco's shoulder, and the action caused no discomfort on either of their parts. "We're not too far off. Come on…I'll walk you to your hotel. I wouldn't want you getting lost again."

Draco scowled and brushed the hand away with feigned irritation. "Ha Ha. I can find my own way, thank you."

With a smile Harry stepped back and crossed his arms. "Okay, so go then…which way is the hotel?"

Draco looked around him. Maybe it was that way? No…that wasn't right….maybe this way?....no. After a few moments of this he threw his hands into the air his eye twitched as he addressed Harry. "Fine! I have no clue where to go. Happy? So go…lead the way."

"With pleasure." Harry hooked his arm in Draco's they finished their walk to the hotel with more amiable conversation and laughs. 

When they arrived, Harry untangled himself and there was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Finally, the moment was broken…by both of them attempting to speak at the same time. 

"So I…"

"Well if you…"

Again they burst into laughter and their mirth seemed to smooth over any awkwardness that had been there before. It was Draco who spoke when the laughter began to subside. 

"I had a really nice time. Thank you…for calling me."

"I did too. I wanted to see you before I left since I'll be gone for three weeks."

"What about your games?"

"Well, we have two games in Ireland while I'm there, so it works out. They seem to have everything covered, so basically I just go where I need to and leave the planning to them."

"Ah."

Another moment of silence. 

"You can…"

"So I guess I'll…"

More laughter. 

Draco brushed Harry's hair aside and ran his finger down the lighting bolt scar with the utmost tenderness. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Goodnight."

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Draco entered his room and felt, oddly, at home. He hung his coat and immediately stripped off his shirt before tossing it over the back of a chair before padding over to the bar and making himself a drink. He summoned the remote to the stereo and switched the machine on, looking forward to the music. He'd, of course, *never* admit to his recent affinity for muggle music, but what harm could it do while he was alone? He'd just started to relax when he heard a knock at the door. He hadn't ordered anything from room service, had he? He usually did, so it wouldn't be a surprise if the staff simply came by to see if he needed anything. Crossing the distance to the door, he wondered whether or not he should put his shirt back on, but went against it. It was no big deal, and he didn't feel like remembering where he'd put it. The sight on the other side of the door was…unexpected. 

"Harry. What are you doing here? I thought you had to leave early in the morning."

Harry smirked and pushed past him until he was fully inside the suite. "What do you think I'm doing here? Come on Draco…you're a smart guy."

Draco gaped as Harry took the drink out of his hand and tossed it over his shoulder. He barely registered that it made no sound when it hit the wall. "What are you mmpppghghhhh…"

It was the most forceful kiss of Draco's life. It was almost…painful. He, of course, had no complaints. His hands immediately gripped to Harry's clothes, literally tearing them off as the two of them headed, clumsy step by clumsy step, toward the bedroom. 

They made it as far as the living room area when Draco pushed Harry down to sit on the coffee table. Harry's fingers began deftly undoing his trousers while his own fingers gripped the head of ebony hair positioned at his stomach. Between licks to Draco's navel, Harry spoke in a pleading, almost childlike voice. 

"Come with me to Ireland."

"I can't."

*lick* "Please?"

"I…c…can't."

"Pretty please?" *lick lick*

Draco couldn't bite back a groan at that point and had to force coherent speech from his lips. "If I could…but…I can't..le…leave."

Harry smiled evilly and ran his tongue from Draco's navel down until he heard Draco gasp. "Pretty please with cherries on top?"

Draco let out a low growl and pounced, knocking Harry over and pinning him beneath him. "I prefer my cherries on the bottom."

Harry let out a squeak and was squirming underneath him. He placed kisses along the tanned chest and chuckled at the soft mewls he received for his efforts. Suddenly the skin seemed a bit paler than usual and the mewls deepened into groan. Two hands traveled up Draco's back and he shivered. When they reached his shoulders, he felt himself flipped over and now pinned beneath Ha…who was this? The image was softly blurred, but not unpleasant, and Draco was mildly confused. He reached his hand up to the face he wanted to see more clearly and ran his fingers through the long black hair that cascaded over him. Pulling his digits through the strands, Draco noted that they were the single softest thing he'd ever touched. The mood had changed, and before where there was playfulness and chatting, now there was restlessness and eager curiosity as fingers entwined with his own and held his hands to the coffee table. Draco had just begun to submit when a loud ringing noise came from the bedroom, interrupting. 

"What the fuck?" Draco bolt upright in bed, slapping a hand at his alarm. He looked down at himself and noted his rather aroused state. 

_'What the hell was *that*?'_

He ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair wiped the sleep from his eyes. It was morning now and he had more important things to worry about today than weird erotic dreams. He finally managed to get himself out of bed and headed to take a long…cold…shower. 

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TBC

Hit the button….come on….you know you wanna.

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	10. Fck Off

Disclaimer: If I owned them….ah fuck it….it's all been done. NOT MINE.

A/N: Well…here is the latest chapter. I was going to wait, but I opted to post since *every* review has consisted (basically) of "I hate Michael"…I figured I'd better get this out of the way. Your responses are *greatly* appreciated. Thank you all. Please review.

Thanks to Jasmine, for the usual support and for your help and enthusiasm with my character's violent tendencies. *grin*

Chapter 9…………F*ck Off.

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Harry Potter *loved* Ireland. He'd been there for two weeks and had loved every minute of it. The country was beautiful, the people were friendly, and they had won the first of two quidditch games. The only thing that kept Harry from enjoying himself completely was…as usual…his own thoughts. Harry was quite lonely at times. Which is hard to imagine since he was usually surrounded by people. He missed Ron and Hermione…and he missed Draco.

_'Maybe I should start dating…'_ Harry entertained the thought. 

After thinking about dating for far too long, Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. _'Why am I trying to plan everything out? God…you'd think I was divorced….'_

Harry cursed under his breath when the snitch zoomed across his sight. He dove immediately; giving chase to the winged ball that he would hopefully catch and win the second of his games in Ireland. 

From the stands, an excited Draco Malfoy yelled along with the rest of the crowd at Harry's sudden dive. Beside him, Michael sat quietly…obviously bored. He let his mind drift over the two weeks that Harry had been gone, and the time he had spent with Draco. After apologies and a few very long work days, the two had gotten somewhat comfortable around each other again. The most memorable event though, had occurred just five days before their business trip. Their 'leisure' time that they had used to watch Harry's game gave Michael ample time to replay the events. 

******************************************

FLASHBACK

It was well past midnight; Michael and Draco had been working on a particularly difficult problem. Frustrated, Draco threw his papers to the floor and stomped to the bar in his suite. He made two drinks while Michael calmly pulled out a stool to sit across from him. He leaned his chin in his hand and accepted the proffered drink. 

"Frustrating…isn't it?"

Draco leaned back against the wall, his drink tucked against him. "Yes, it is."

"Well let's talk about something else then."

"Like what?" Draco asked with a quirked brow.

"I took the painting down."

"Why?"

"It seemed to disturb you, so…."

Draco moved in a bit closer and sat his drink on the bar. "I want it. How much were you asking at the gallery?"

This piqued Michael's interest. "200£…but really, if you want it, you can just have it…"

"No…I want to buy it. It's very good."

"Well, alright then, but…why do you want it in the first place?"

Draco looked away, flustered. "It's just…I've never seen myself quite like that. It intrigued me…frankly I don't know how you see me that way…"

Michael reached over and took Draco's chin between his fingers, forcing the grey gaze back to him. "Haven't we been over this?"

There was complete silence as Draco's thoughts churned inside his head. Finally he found a coherent one. "I know what you want from me…I'm just not sure I'm ready or willing to give it to you."

Michael laughed and took his hand away, leaving Draco feeling more vulnerable than before. "Not ready for what? To be single? I don't want to marry you, Draco. I don't want you to drop to your knees and profess your undying, and false might I add, love for me. I don't want a key to your room, nor to your heart…at least…not at this point in time."

Draco blinked, surprised. "Well…what do you want then?"

With a smile, Michael leaned across the bar and tilted his head, a mere breath away from Draco. He paused a moment, and was pleased when Draco did not pull away. His confidence bolstered, he closed the gap and pressed his lips to Draco's in a soft kiss. When the Slytherin still did not pull back, he deepened the kiss and let out a small moan of appreciation when Draco reciprocated his efforts with his own tongue. There was, however, the small matter of the not so small bar between the two of them. Pulling gently on Draco's shoulders, Michael guided him up on top of the bar and over to him, never breaking the kiss. When Draco pulled back, mildly confused at the purpose of his new position, Michael pulled his legs to hang over the side so that he sat on the edge of the bar, facing the darker man who remained on his stool. The dark haired man leaned in for another kiss, but Draco placed his hand on his chest and pushed him away. 

"Are you saying you expect to sleep with me, nothing more?"

Michael leaned back. "I'm saying I don't *expect* anything from you."

Draco leaned into him again and murmured "Good" against the other man's lips. Just as he applied pressure with his mouth, the stool protested to the extra weight and toppled backwards taking both men with it to the floor. They landed in a heap – Michael on the floor, and Draco on Michael. Once it was established that no one was injured, they both began to laugh and Draco propped himself up with both of his hands planted on the floor on either side of Michael's head. The laughs slowly faded and Michael, ever the opportunist, used the new position to his advantage. He raised his head and this time did not pause to give Draco time to back out before he claimed his mouth. He was shocked when Draco did not try to retreat, although he made a small sound of surprise in his throat at the sudden attack. When he was allowed to deepen the kiss, Michael ran his hands to the hem of Draco's shirt and slipped his fingers underneath the material, feeling the younger man shudder over him. He ran his hands upward, pushing the shirt away and was about to reposition himself to remove it completely when the phone rang. 

"Don't get that." He pleaded. 

"Don't get what?"

Michael smiled. "Good boy."

When the ringing stopped, Michael resumed his task and had just gotten back into the flow of things when the ringing started up again. Draco growled again, but then sighed with resignation as he pushed his shirt back down over himself and scrounged for his mobile. He grabbed at the device irritably, expecting a silly question from one of the people who worked for him. 

"What?" he growled into the phone. 

"We won!" came the voice from the other end. 

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed, happy to hear from him. "You caught the snitch? That's fantastic!"

Michael sighed and threw his arm over his eyes from where he lay on the floor. "Great…" he mumbled under his breath… "Harry Potter…" When it became apparent that Draco was not going to tell Harry to go away, and that he was busy, Michael sat up and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He sat there for several minutes until Draco finally came back into the room, having hung up the phone. He turned to the, sadly, still clothed blonde and quirked his brow. 

"Harry Potter?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, he wanted to tell me he won the game in Ireland. He sounded a bit drunk, actually." Draco chuckled. "The next game is in five days, right in the middle of our trip. I think we may have to stop by…I haven't seen a good quidditch game in ages…"

"Can't wait." Michael made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. 

Draco folded his arms over his chest and smirked like the Malfoy he was. "You'd better get going…I have more flat hunting to do early tomorrow morning."

With a scowl, Michael stood. "You want me to go? Now?"

"I do…and since you don't expect anything, you can hardly be disappointed, now can you?"

Michael grabbed his coat and threw it on, shaking his head while heading for the door. "Do you know something?...You are one evil bastard."

Draco smiled while holding the door open. "So I've been told. Goodnight."

*END FLASHBACK*

*******************************************************

And so here they were. Nothing had happened since that night, and Michael was beginning to wonder if it ever would. He was, however, not one to give up so easily. When the wearisome game had finally ended, he followed Draco out of the stands to congratulate the great and wonderful Harry Potter…along with everyone else in the crowd. 

When Harry noticed Draco, he smiled brightly and the two shared a hug. The former Gryffindor's expression dropped a bit though when he noticed Michael. Even so, he forced a smile. Harry turned his attentions back to Draco. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Business trip…and we had some free time, so I thought we'd come to your game. Excellent show, as always."

Harry was about to say something, but was cut off by Michael addressing Draco. "I see Pierre De Lorme, he's excellent friends with Mr. Rousseau from the current deal. I'm going to go talk to him…if you'll excuse me."

Draco stopped him from leaving. "Let me…I need to get used to all this, it is *my* company…remember." He turned to Harry. "I'll see you later, okay? Besides, I'm sure you have plenty of autographs to sign."

The blonde headed for the French man's social circle with his head held high and possessing unimaginable amounts of nobility and grace. Back where he had just been, Michael spoke to no one in particular, although Harry was still beside him. 

"He really is amazing."

Harry snorted and made to leave, but Michael caught his arm and pulled him back. His grip tightened and he narrowed his eyes at the boy who lived. 

"What is it that gets you so upset? Is it seeing him with someone else? Or seeing him with *me*?"

Harry snatched his arm away and grit his teeth. He counted to ten and tried to keep his voice calm. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know *exactly* what I mean. Is this your idea of letting him go? Getting him out of your flat long enough to make him think he's free to do what he wants, but still gripping onto him as if he's yours?"

Harry gripped his broom so hard; he thought he might break it. "And I suppose you think he's yours then?"

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "He's no one's. If you'd let go for more than five minutes, he might see that too."

"Just what do you mean by that?"

"If you want to be his friend…if you want what's best for him, leave him alone."

Harry scoffed. "Leave him alone? I didn't even know you two would be here. I'm not his keeper."

Michael adopted a malevolent smile. "He wouldn't have even known about this game if you hadn't called him last week and interrupted a particularly heated moment."

Snarling, Harry stepped closer to the other man and growled out his response. "Just what do you mean by 'heated'?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business."

Both heads snapped towards the source of the last comment. Draco stood close to them and very…very…angry. Michael smiled and stepped closer to him, and Harry moved in as well. Over confident, Michael directed his next comment at Harry. 

"Not even the Great Harry Potter gets his way all of the time. You should learn your place."

*THWACK*

Harry stood still, smirking and satisfied. 

Michael stood still, his head turned to the side from the right hook he'd just received to the jaw. 

Draco stood still, staring at his fist as though it has disobeyed him and hit Michael against his wishes. 

All was still for several moments. Finally, Michael recovered and wiped some blood from the corner of his mouth. His voice was low and cutting. "Nice, Malfoy…real nice." He turned and started to stalk away, but his last comment did not go unheard by Draco, or Harry. "…Fucking kids…"

Harry didn't remember throwing his broom down, he didn't remember taking off in a run, and he didn't remember jumping on top of Michael from behind. But he found himself seated on top of the man, slamming his face into the ground. Michael managed to throw him off and gained the upper hand with a well placed uppercut. They seemed to trade blows like clockwork, not noticing Draco who was screaming at them to stop fighting. The crown gathered around the three, always hungry for gossip. Draco yelled again and neither man acknowledged him. There was a loud bang and suddenly everything was shrouded in darkness. Every light in the pitch had exploded, leaving the crowd in shadows. Harry and Michael immediately paused their altercation and soon focused on Draco who seemed almost to glow. He had his head down, his face darkened by his hair. Harry had only seen this happen once before. It took a really powerful and *really* angry wizard to cause such destruction…and wandless no less. 

Both Michael and Harry scrambled over to him, ignoring the shards of broken glass littering the ground. Michael got there first. "Draco…"

Draco almost hissed in his anger. "Fuck. Off. When I get to the room, your things had better not be in it."

"But…"

"Fuck. Off."

Michael's concern gave way a bit to anger. "Am I fired?"

Draco's voice still sounded more like a growl. "Did I say you were fired? Now go!"

In the next moment, Harry stood and approached Draco with a small smile. "Thanks…for taking up for…"

"He was right… you know."

Harry was confused, and a little irritated at the interruption. "Excuse me?"

Draco kept his fists at his sides, and his head down, as he was still furious. "Michael…he was right. This isn't working. I don't think we should see as much of each other."

Harry opted not to argue, judging by what had just happened to the lights. He had no doubt that he could best Draco in a duel…but ultimately didn't feel like dueling Draco in the first place. Instead, he summoned his broom. 

"Fine…do whatever you want. That was the point wasn't it?" Harry turned his back and walked away. 

********************************************************************

TBC

I love you…don't hit me…too hard. *Please* just remember that it always has to get worse before it can get better. And hey…at least Michael caught it in the jaw…

Please review.

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	11. Harry's dating fiasco or Painful times

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and not me. Although I'm sure she's not thrilled about what I've done to her boys, I thank her nonetheless for the opportunity. 

**A/N: First off…WOW! The last chapter got *mad* responses…thus the quickness or this chapter's arrival. See how that works…the feedback fuels me. THANK YOU! For all the reviews. **

**Now…on the Michael issue. *Never* have I seen such intense anger over a character. I forgot how vicious slash fans can be…remind me *never* to come between these boys. It would be certain death. Anyways…*I* like Michael. I like him a lot, actually, and I tried really hard not to make him a *bad* guy. He's not a good guy either…but really…who is? THANK YOU to the few people that actually expressed some like for him, or understanding of his place in this story. For those who didn't…thank you as well for sharing your opinions with me. *All* of you, my lovely readers, are what keep this story going. **

Thanks Jasmine!

On with the newest chapter!

Chapter 10………..Harry's Dating Fiasco or Painful times.

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As Harry stepped into his flat, he had to keep himself from screaming. He'd been home from Ireland for two weeks, and he still hadn't spoken to Draco. He wasn't sure if he *wanted* to. Okay…that was a lie. Of course he wanted to…but after the fiasco in Ireland (that managed to make the front page of the Daily Prophet), he found himself still angry at his former lover. He hadn't meant to restrict Draco in any way, but couldn't he see that it couldn't be helped? Was he supposed to just roll over and *enjoy* seeing him with other people? 

After talking to Hermione, Harry had decided to take her advice and start dating. He wasn't looking for anyone to share his life, or his bed…but he was lonely. This, of course, was easier said than done. He'd been on several dates and all of them had managed to be, in one way or another, absolutely horrible. 

First there was Eric, a muggle. Also what we like to call an 'alcoholic'. The man had seemed normal enough, but throughout dinner, Harry noticed the unusual amount of drinks he had put down. When he had referred to drink number ten (Harry was guessing) as his 'medicine' Harry took that as his cue to leave.

Next came Jonathan, also *seemingly* normal. A masculine and handsome man, Jonathan made quick work of explaining to Harry the pros and cons of women's underwear. Wearing them…that is. 

Third, in the muggle world, was Darren. He was nice, and had a great smile. He also, unfortunately, lived in the closet. After the fifth time he'd pulled Harry into an alley way because he thought he saw his neighbor, his aunt, or maybe his dog Fannie from third grade, Harry grew irritated and wanted to wave a rainbow flag over his head. 

So he moved on to wizards. Two god awful wizards. 

The first had been suggested by, of all people, David. His name was Patrick, and he was *very* Irish. Harry had liked his accent, along with other assets of his, but there was one tiny problem. Apparently Ol' Patrick was a member of what Harry will forever more refer to as the 'Draco Malfoy Fan Club.' The Irishman had gone on and on about the merits of the wonderful and gorgeous Draco Malfoy, coming to the realization that maybe it might be a sore subject after an hour of morbid hero worship. Harry grimaced, remembering the young man's face contorting into shock and hearing his voice draw out his realization. "Oh god…I forgot, you two were (*shaky hand gesture*)…that must really suck. I don't know what I'd do if I lost someone like Draco Malfoy!" Harry promptly banged his head on the table. 

And tonight, the coup de grace, aka – Tyler. Hermione had talked him into the date (since Harry almost sworn off men altogether) saying over and over that he was "so nice!". So Harry had gone. In retrospect, he'd have rather sworn off men…in fact…the date had been similar to doing just that. 

The phone rang and Harry answered it only in some vague hope that maybe lightning would strike him dead through the line. 

"Hello?"

"Harry! How did it go? Tell me everything?"

"Hermione…if I *ever* need a date again, which I highly doubt, since I don't see myself ever getting another erection as long as I live…*never* set me up. I don't care if I beg and plead…I'd rather die alone in a dumpster with my cats than go through that again."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Harry…I don't know what's wrong…Tyler's always so nice. I thought you two would get on well together." She sounded hurt that her efforts had been unappreciated. 

"Mione…yeah…Tyler would be great, if I liked *women* which, in case you hadn't noticed, I do *not*."

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Contrary to popular belief Mione, not all gay men want their partner to be a woman with a penis. Like I give a damn about glamour magic or the thread count of my sheets!!!!"

"I…I'm sorry Harry…I just thought…"

"There is such a thing as *too* gay, Mione. I'm tired…I'm not mad, just…celibate. Maybe for life. I'm going to bed now, and I will talk to you as soon as the nightmares stop."

He hung up the phone and made way for the bathroom to wash the horrible night from his skin.

*************************************************************

Draco Malfoy lay quietly in bed in his hotel suite, for the last night. Tomorrow, his flat would *finally* be ready. After ages of searching, he'd found the perfect place. It was spacious and…perfect. He'd bought all of his furniture (black leather, of course), fixtures and art and tomorrow morning, everything would be in place. He really should have been excited. He was, however, not. Of course he was happy to finally have a home of his own…but something was…missing. Maybe it was the fact that Christmas lurked just around the corner, and Draco didn't have anywhere to go. The season made him think of home. Holidays were never particularly warm in the Malfoy household, but it was certainly better than being alone. Maybe it was that he was still fighting with Harry. Well…fighting isn't really the word since they weren't even speaking. He hadn't meant to get so angry…it was all just so…confusing. He couldn't deny that he had an interest in Michael. The man had apologized and the two of them had managed to rebuild their working relationship. Michael was a tactful and smart man; he hadn't pushed since that day. Still…Draco had questions. Michael made him…tingle, in a way. But Harry…made him warm. Above all else, he had forged a strong friendship with the savior of the wizarding world and didn't want to lose it. He was Draco Malfoy…he *needed* no one. And so he kept his distance from Harry Potter, and then…maybe…he could believe that. 

********************************************************************

Michael stepped into Draco's flat and looked around. The place certainly suited him – hardwood floors and open doorways with an elite selection of art adorning the walls. It was Christmas Eve, and neither of the two men had anyone to share it with, so he had stopped by. Draco stepped into the foyer, freshly showered, and greeted him. 

"I'm just finishing up, take a look around."

Michael made his way through the high rise apartment and found that every square foot seemed to fit Draco perfectly. He even had an enormous king sized bed on a raised platform, drawing all attention in the room to it. The thought made his mind wander. He had backed off since Ireland, giving Draco the space he needed to figure things out for himself – to figure out what it was he wanted. He had even contemplated giving up…but now, standing in Draco's bedroom, he decided he could go a few more rounds. Still, looking around, something was…missing. 

Draco watched the other man look around for a few moments. When Michael looked a bit confused, he spoke up. "Looking for something?"

"You don't have a Christmas tree."

Draco shrugged. "No point really. I wasn't going to do anything."

"That's nonsense. Everyone needs a Christmas tree. Spend Christmas with me…we'll leave now and get a tree, and later we can have dinner."

Draco thought on this for a moment before nodding. "Okay then. It's not like I have anything else to do."

Michael didn't try to hide his sarcasm. "Glad to know you enjoy my company so much. Get your coat."

*******************************************************************

Harry finished setting up his flat for Christmas. He wasn't in the worst of moods, but he wasn't particularly happy either. Sure, Ron and Hermione would be here later with Ginny and the twins for dinner, but it just wasn't the same. He missed his family. It wasn't as though he'd spent any Christmases with them that he could remember, but the grief was not lessened by this fact. The season catered to family, and he always came up short. He had considered calling Draco, knowing the Slytherin would most likely be alone as well, but had decided against it. He didn't think he and Ron could handle the whole evening together, and Christmas was not a time for fighting. Besides…he had Michael now. 

With a sigh, Harry placed the star on the top of the tree and headed for the shower.

********************************************************************

Draco and Michael heaved a great sigh as they finally managed to get the Christmas tree into Draco's apartment. Both men were panting and warm, despite the bitter chill from the open window. Michael threw his gloves off and turned to Draco. 

"You just *had* to live on the 27th floor, didn't you?"

Draco scoffed. "It's not my fault the damned thing wouldn't fit in the elevator. I think we should take a break before trying to move it." He paused, then "Do you want a glass of wine?"

With a nod Michael followed him into the kitchen. As Draco poured two glasses of burgundy wine, he noticed the waning light outside. 

"It'll be dark soon."

He handed a glass to the slightly taller man and raised his own in a toast. "Merry Christmas."

Michael nodded. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

Neither of them spoke as they relocated to the living room and sat comfortably on the couch. When Draco sat his glass on the marble table in front of them, he turned and faced Michael. 

"I know I've been a bit harsh on you these past few weeks. But I just wanted to say…thank you. For all the help you've been, I mean. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

Michael moved closer to him and sat down his own glass. He had expected Draco to tense when he touched his hand, but did it nonetheless. "I'm a business man. A good one. It's your own determination that's gotten you here. You should give yourself more credit."

Draco looked away, a faint blush tainting his cheeks. "Thank you."

He started slightly when he felt a warm hand on his cheek, turning his head back to face his companion. Michael smiled and leaned into him. Draco had a brief moment of conflict where he didn't know whether to close his eyes of push the other man away. He didn't have to decide though, as right at that moment; an owl flew to his window and hooted for his attention. Draco slid off the couch and crossed to the bird while Michael swiped his glass off the table and downed the contents, frustrated. When he'd finished his wine, he sat back and closed his eyes, wondering whether or not he'd be able to coax Draco back into their previous position.

He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of shattering glass.

**********************************************************

Harry had just finished setting the table and all of his guests had finally arrived. He forced a smile and told himself that he would have a good time no matter what. He had a few last things to do and then the six friends could sit down to a nice Christmas Eve dinner. Ginny and Hermione helped in the kitchen while Ron and the twins sat in the living room and marveled at the television. Through their laughter, Harry heard a knock on the door. 

"Ron, could you get that? My hands are full." He called out to his friend. 

"Sure, Harry."

Ron crossed to the door and opened it, expecting maybe a teammate of Harry's or another of his friends. At first he did not recognize the tall man with long dark hair, but soon enough, he recalled his face from the front page of the Daily Prophet. 

"Bloody hell! You're that Michael bloke that's caused Harry so much trouble!"

The twins snapped their heads in the direction of the door, surprised by Ron's outburst. They could hear the voice form the other side. 

"You must be Ron Weasley. As much as I'd enjoy standing here and exchanging insults with you, I haven't the time. If you'll excuse me, I need to speak to Harry Potter."

Ron blocked the doorway with his arm. "Like hell you will!"

Michael scowled and narrowed his eyes at the infuriated red head. "If you value your arm, remove it. I have no business with you; now move before I move you!"

Ron gripped the door and opened his mouth to shout again, but Harry's sudden presence behind him caused him to calm a bit. "I don't know what this git wants Harry, he just showed up here. I can throw him out if you want."

Harry pushed Ron aside and studied Michael for a moment. "It's alright Ron; go back in the living room."

"But Harry!"

"Go, Ron…I'm fine, okay?"

Ron grumbled as he stomped back to the couch. With his friend out of earshot, Harry glared at Michael. "So what is it you want then?"

"Could I speak to you somewhere more private?"

Harry crossed his arms. "No. You felt the need to interrupt my Christmas Eve dinner, so I think you should just come out with it. What do you want?"

Michael willed his voice to stay calm as he addressed Harry. "Sorry to interrupt your cozy evening, but there's somewhere you need to be."

Harry quirked a brow. "Oh? And where is that?"

"With Draco."

Scoffing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "So you just show up on my doorstep on Christmas Eve to do what? Tell me you concede? What do you really want?"

Michael snarled and grabbed Harry by his shirt. "God damnit Potter! This doesn't have anything to do with you or me! I'm only here because he needs you and I'm not such a selfish bastard as to think I'd be enough to help him!"

Harry's expression changed as he wriggled out of the other man's grip. "What do you mean he needs me? What's wrong?!"

Michael straightened and handed Harry a piece of parchment. Harry furrowed his brow in worry as he read the short note. 

_Boy, _

_Your Father is dead. Do not owl. I will be in touch regarding your inheritance. _

_Narcissa Malfoy. _

"Oh god…."

Michael handed another slip of paper to Harry. 

"There…that's the address. Hurry…he didn't look so good when I left."

Harry spun around, furious. "You bastard! Why did you leave at all? God knows what he'll do…"

"I didn't…he threw me out right after he shattered an 800£ sculpture. I tried to get back in, but he wouldn't let me…I…I'm not sure he can handle this. As much as I hate to admit it…he needs…" The man tapered off, unwilling to finish his sentence. 

"So I apparated here. Now get your coat already!"

"I'll apparate there…let me get my wand."

Michael stopped him. "Bad idea. There's no telling what kind of magical energy is surging through the area right now. You'd best go the old fashioned way…but take your wand anyways."

Harry nodded and grabbed his coat and wand. He gave a quick explanation to his guests and headed for the door. 

"Wait!" He spun on his heel and shot into the kitchen, digging through a drawer. 

"Whatever it is can wait, Potter." Michael shouted from the doorway. 

When he finally found the parchment he was looking for, Harry sighed in relief and ran to the door. Michael grabbed his arm and held him still for a moment. 

"Take care of him…please. He…scared the shit out of me just now."

Harry snatched his arm away, but his expression softened a bit when he saw the worry etched on the other man's face. He nodded and took off for the address Michael had given him. He prayed that Draco would be okay when he got there. 

_'He *has* to be okay'_ ………

************************************

TBC

*Kiss* Love you! Tee hee hee. The next chapter is already written…but we're in the home stretch here and I don't want to spring it on you too quick now do I? It'll be here soon…promise. 

Please Review. 

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	12. Please

Disclaimer: No, so don't ask. 

A/N: Thank you again for the huge response to the last chapter. You know I wouldn't make you wait too long…so here is the next one. Be warned…lots o' angst and the like below. All in all, I think this is one of my personal favorites…but that could be because I'm a twisted fuck. (j/k) We still have a few to go…so be patient…and *trust me*. Please review. 

Thanks to Liz and Jasmine for being my two *favorite* chicas and for reading my story. *Massive kisses*

Chapter 11………..Please. (Yeah, you know that chapter title is all for you, Jasmine. *wink*)

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Harry, after what felt like hours of running, finally found Draco's apartment. Skidding to a halt outside the door, he raised his hand to knock, but stilled it when he heard music coming from the other side. The piano. Harry knew Draco could play, but he had not, to Harry's knowledge, done so since he left home. The song was beautiful and strong, but undeniably sad. He sighed with a bit of relief…at least he knew Draco was inside and in one piece. His thoughts wandered momentarily. How would Draco react? The truth was, Harry had no clue what to expect. A part of him worried that Draco would lash out at him, resentful; as Harry's coaxing had been a major factor in his decision to leave home. His logical side, of course, dismissed this notion; yet still he worried. He knocked and, as he had expected, received no answer. He knocked harder…again no answer…and the music continued. 

_'Damn…I'll have to apparate in…'_

Harry reached for his wand and with a pop he found himself standing in what was left of Draco's home. The sudden influx of magical energy made him reel for a moment, but left him otherwise unharmed. He took a quick glance around and noted that the place would have looked much like Draco himself – beautiful and cold. He noted a discarded Christmas tree leaning against the wall and shards of broken glass littering the floor. To his left he saw the sculpture Michael must've been referring to, busted to pieces by a large hole in the wall. Harry presumed both occurred by the sculpture being hurled at the once pristine wall. He moved his gaze to the piano…and to Draco. 

He was bent over the keys, pounding into them as though his fingers would break. Sweat dripped from his brow and his eyes were shut tightly – his expression fierce. It was almost as if he wanted to create a new world for himself through the notes – like his fingertips could rewrite history in a wave of anguish and ivory. Harry tentatively approached him and reached out a shaky hand to place on his shoulder. The action seemed not to faze him. Calmly, he called his name. 

"Draco…"

"..."

He tried again. "Draco…"

"…"

Harry took a deep breath and relocated his hand to lie gently atop Draco's, stilling its movement. He found no need for greetings or explanations as he enveloped the other boy into his arms. As he had expected, Draco did not return the embrace, but rather, hung limply in his arms. Harry brought a hand up to caress the platinum hair and cooed into the distraught boy's ear. 

"It's okay…"

Draco exploded, wrenching away from him and slamming a fist onto the piano keys. The dissonance echoed through the still room. "*Nothing* is okay…"

He leapt up from his seat on the bench and crossed to his bar. Harry followed and watched him rummage angrily through bottles until he seemed satisfied with a choice. If Draco was this upset now, Harry hated to think of him after he'd been drinking. 

"I don't think you should drink just now, Draco."

Draco scoffed and continued to pour his drink.

"Really…come on, we'll go sit down…just…leave that here, okay?"

If Draco heard him, he didn't respond, but continued with his task. When his hand slipped and he managed to spill a good bit of liquor onto the surface of the bar, he let out a growl and hurled the bottle across the room. Luckily, the glass didn't break. Luck, like many things though, was short lived this night. Because when Harry looked back to Draco, he saw his face contort as he swept his hand across the counter top, sending everything crashing to the floor. Harry winced at the sound of so much broken glass. Draco slid to the floor, seemingly unfazed by the shards that had to have been digging into his skin. When he raised the glass to his lips, Harry intervened and snatched it away before setting it back onto the top of the bar. Draco looked up at him with contempt that slowly melded into an aggrieved sadness. Before he could say anything, Harry bent down and lifted him to his feet. 

"Come on…let's go into the living room."

Draco sniffled and nodded, allowing Harry to lead him. 

When the pair reached the couch, Harry sat Draco down and took his hand, noting a gash from the broken glass. Draco seemed impassive to the pain, if there was any. Harry tried, vainly, to wipe away the blood. 

"Damn it Draco! You should be more careful! Where's your bathroom so I can clean this up?"

Draco nodded in the direction of the bathroom and slumped back when Harry got up from his seat. After a few moments, he returned with a washcloth and some gauze. He gingerly took Draco's wounded hand and checked for any remaining shards of glass that might be imbedded in the skin. When none were found, he cleaned the gash and wrapped it up, silently. Out of nowhere, Draco began to speak, albeit very softly. 

"I never got to tell him I was sorry. He…he had to have hated me…"

Harry hugged him again. He held him there a long moment, cooing to him and running his and over his back, comfortingly. Suddenly Draco pulled away and wiped tears from his eyes. He stood and headed back towards the kitchen. Frowning, Harry called after him. 

"Draco what…"

"Don't worry…I just need some water…"

Although Harry believed him, he didn't want to take any chances; he followed behind him into the kitchen. As Draco poured himself a glass of water, Harry remembered the parchment in his pocket. It was the letter Lucius had sent him after Draco had moved out. He pulled out the note and held it out to Draco. 

"Here…I…well, I thought you should see this. It came shortly after you left the flat…"

Draco took the offered paper, curious. He let his eyes scan the words and Harry watched his face go through a torrent of emotions. First curiosity, then disbelief that gave way to…almost…hope, before realization and finally…grief. 

"I wanted to give it to you earlier…but I didn't want…I thought you might get hurt…"

He watched as Draco crumpled the note in his hand and cast it aside. Before he could ask any questions, the paper burst into flames and settled into a pile of ash on the floor. A split second later, Draco sank down as well with a heartrending cry. When the light bulb above their heads exploded, Harry instinctively ducked and covered his head from the glass and sparks that left the two of them in relative darkness. He knew something had to be done. He himself had only lost control over his magic once, and that had been when Voldemort had mocked his parents just before he killed him. He threw himself down beside the hysterical Slytherin and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. 

"Draco! Draco, listen to me! You have got to keep control okay? Listen to my voice…I'm here, I'm going to take care of you…just calm down."

Slowly, and after much coaxing, Harry was confident that there would be no more exploding glass. Still, Draco's condition hadn't improved much. At a loss, Harry sat back and opened his arms. 

"Come here."

Draco obeyed and crawled over to him. He let himself relax completely and went limp in Harry's arms. However, before long, his fingers gripped to his former lover tightly as he sobbed into the crook of Harry's neck. 

*************************************************************

Michael sighed as he entered his flat. He was drained…physically, emotionally, mentally. He wondered how Draco was holding up. Sliding down to the floor, he sat there, thinking for a long, long time. He wanted desperately to run back…to take care of the grief-stricken blonde himself. But he knew better. It wasn't his place…it wasn't his name he heard Draco cry softly from the other side of the door. That had been the moment he knew he had lost. He did not love Draco…and yet…all of this was new to him. Having never been one for melodrama, his usual reaction would have been to quietly exit such a scene and be on his merry way. Instead, he had found himself wanting to stay, to help and make everything okay. So he helped the only way he could…he went to Harry Potter. 

_'How ironic…'_ he thought. _'The first time I *want* to help…I can't…'_

At some point he had gotten up from the floor and moved to the couch…though he couldn't remember when. He vaguely noticed that he was weeping softly. Weeping for Draco – the boy's sorrow still fresh in his mind. Somewhere…deep down…he wept for himself too…although he'd never know it. Tears seemed to be the only language the pureblood couldn't understand with natural affluence.

"Merry Christmas to me…" he said somewhat dejectedly. 

It was then that he heard his door open. Startled, he jerked his head to the intrusion. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked, a little confused. 

He received a smile from a familiar face. "I used to live here not so long ago. I didn't want you to be alone on Christmas…"

Michael forced a smile for Andrew…his partner for more than a year. To be honest, he wasn't really in the mood for company, but the gesture was heartfelt and so he welcomed it accordingly. He didn't need to explain to this man who was so similar to him in many ways. He didn't need to apologize or sprout delusive words of a feigned reconciliation. He just needed to nod, take a deep breath and accept that, for tonight at least, he didn't have to be alone.

**********************************************************

Harry didn't know how long he held him there, but the sobs lessened in intensity and he leaned his head back to rest against the wall, taking Draco with him. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide in shock. Of all the things he expected…a tongue lapping at his neck was not one of them. Fighting the urge to throw his head back and relent, Harry forced his brain to work. 

"D…Draco…I don't think…"

Taking another lick at Harry's neck and tasting the salt of his own tears, Draco's fingers walked their way up to Harry's collar. He brought his lips up to Harry's ear and pleaded. 

"…please…"

"But I don't…"

Draco placed his finger over Harry's lips and drew back to face him. Harry cursed the moon for letting in enough light to allow him to see the need on the usually unaffected face. The look did not suit Draco, but left him flawless and beautiful nonetheless. Harry felt his resolve crumbling. He didn't question Draco's motives, as he knew from first hand experience that Draco dealt with things in his own strange way. It was almost if he needed both to be reassured, loved, touched and to forget, to place his mind as far away as possible. Harry wasn't so sure this was the best way to handle the current situation though. He was snapped from his thoughts by a wandering hand on the inside of his thigh. When he reached his own hand down to move it, Draco took both of their hands, linked together, and guided them to his own body. He wrapped them around his waist and shifted his position to straddle across Harry's lap. Leaning in, he pressed his perfect face closer and placed kisses all over Harry's cheeks and across his nose. Harry tasted the saline drips of Draco's tears as they ran down his own face and a few slipped into the crease of his mouth. When Draco reached Harry's lips, he ran his hands through his hair and whispered against his moist skin. 

"…please…"

Harry at last decided he hadn't another ounce of tenacity in him and he relaxed. Pulling Draco's arms tighter around him, he replied finally. 

"Not here."

He whispered a minor levitation spell and stood, keeping Draco wrapped about his waist. When he'd exited the kitchen, he asked Draco to point out the bedroom and Draco complied, pointing to an open doorway. Harry's eyes had already adjusted to the darkness and he had no trouble getting the two of them into the room smoothly. Once inside, he laid Draco down, and even in the shadows his breath caught at the sight of his pale hair and skin contrasting off of the black of the sheets. He leaned down over him and claimed his lips while he let his fingers roam and begin their task of removing their clothes, skimming over pale flesh as he went. With his skin exposed, Harry shivered. The gauze from Draco's bandaged hand scraped lightly over him and made him that much more aware of the warm body underneath him. Harry let his eyes rest briefly on the growing pile on the floor; the symbolism apparent. They were abandoning so much more than fabric.

When the last piece of cloth was divested, Harry laid down flush against Draco, both of them gasping softly at the contact. What happened next, neither could explain, but both would remember as one of the most remarkable moments of their lives.

Harry reached out to run his hand along Draco's arm, and Draco gasped…before Harry ever touched him. The space between them seemed to glow faintly. Closer to Draco the light kept a blue hue, while next to Harry it remained red and the area between them flushed purple. The light was subtle…almost imperceptible. They shared a look of mutual surprise before Draco experimentally ran his hand down Harry's back, hovering just above the skin. Harry threw his head back and groaned, having never felt something so intense. 

Later, he would come to the conclusion that the heightened emotions of the evening combined with the volatile magic of two very powerful wizards had caused some sort of reaction. At the time, however, neither of them had the wit, nor the desire to contemplate the science of the matter.

 He immediately kissed Draco deeply, overwhelmed with sensation. Draco returned the kiss as though his very life depended on it…maybe it had. Slicing through the dark, the moonlight cast a soft glow across Draco's face. His platinum hair was sprawled across the pillow and his steel eyes pierced into Harry's own. His pale cheeks were still wet with tears that left their tracks in soft pink streaks down his otherwise flawless complexion. 

"Beautiful" Harry whispered and ran his hand just above a pale cheek. 

Draco gasped and bit his lip, instinctively lifting his hips upwards. This caused Harry to bury his head into Draco's neck for a moment, catching his breath. After he had calmed, a blonde head lifted, catching Harry's mouth in another kiss as Harry ran his hands along both of the pale arms until he reached the long fingers that always knew exactly how to torture him. He intertwined Draco's hands with his own and both men sighed softly at the feeling of utter completeness – no questions, no rules, no titles...no tomorrows. 

Running a calloused hand along the fair, lissome torso, Harry kissed Draco's shoulder before rising up. His hand journeyed downward to Draco's hip and along the outside of his thigh before he lifted gently at the knee and raised it to rest on his shoulder. Turning his head, Harry could smell Draco's skin. It was an intoxicating and faint blend of amber mixed with something Harry couldn't define. Nostalgia told him he knew it long before he had ever known the smell or taste of another man; but even so, the scent now belonged solely to Draco. Running his nose along the skin one more time to bond it to his memories, he placed a tiny kiss to Draco's ankle.

Draco surrendered completely, and when Harry took him he continued to cry softly. It was a bit of a role reversal from their last time, but Harry had played both top and bottom before and he knew that tonight, Draco needed to be taken, loved…possessed. 

Afterwards, Harry curled Draco to him and held him there, whispering softly until he fell asleep. When he was confident that the Slytherin would not wake suddenly, he slipped his pants on and returned to the rest of the flat. He surveyed the damage and shook his head. He could only imagine the pain Draco had to be in. Even through all of their hardships, the pureblood had remained fiercely devoted to his father, and desperately wanted his approval. Somewhere, Draco thought that someday everything would be okay…and now…he knew better. 

With a sigh Harry took out his wand and began repairing the damage around him. When he finished he set up the Christmas tree and replaced the light bulb in the kitchen. He turned out the lights and padded back into the bedroom where he slipped off his pants and curled against Draco once more. When they were snugly together, Harry placed a soft kiss to the shoulder tucked under his chin and hoped his presence would be enough to chase away any demons that would invade his lover's sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

***************************************

TBC

Alright pretties, don't get your knickers in a twist…it ain't over yet. (I *cannot* believe I just said ain't)

There's more to come…you didn't think I'd make it this easy on you, did you? Come on…*points up to sleeping Draco* he's got some shit to deal with first. 

Next chapter soon, I promise. 

Please Review.

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	13. The owl

Disclaimer: Me no own; you no sue. 

A/N: Okie dokie…had a spell of writer's block…but, thankfully, it has rescinded. This chapter is kind of short and is just a kind of character based morning after type thing. Still…it was fun to write. Thanks, as always, Jasmine…for being my muse. 

Please read and review.

Chapter 12…………The owl.

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Morning light crept in and warmed Harry Potter's face. On instinct, he groaned and stretched his muscles, preparing for the inevitable opening of his eyes. After a moment, the previous night came rushing back to him and he turned his head to find Draco still sleeping soundly beside him. He couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips as he reached a hand out to touch the slightly tousled silky hair. Resisting the urge to wake him, Harry slipped out of bed, cursing silently at the icy bite of the December air. It took him a moment to find all of his clothes, and when he did, he slipped them on and padded out to the kitchen. 

He decided to make a pot of coffee, as Draco might need it when he woke. It was only after he had been awake for nearly an hour, straightening and attempting to find something suitable for breakfast, that he realized it was Christmas Day. His smile faded, thinking of Draco. What a miserable way to spend Christmas. 

_'Well…'_ he thought. _'At least he won't spend it alone.'_

A tapping noise at the window caught his attention. He instinctively knew it was an owl, flapping and hooting while begging for entrance. Heading for the messenger, he thanked Merlin that he'd had the sense to close the window when he cleaned the night before. 

Harry let the bird in and winced when a gust of wind accompanied the owl into the room. He took the parchment from her leg and examined the seal. The papers were from the Manor. Taking a quick glance at the bedroom and finding that Draco was still asleep, he pondered his options for a moment. He didn't want to pry, or snoop through Draco's mail…yet…Harry had witnessed the letters Narcissa had sent her son, and the effect they had on him. Harry wasn't so sure Draco could handle that…not today. 

Swiping his coffee mug from the counter and settling on the couch, Harry unrolled the parchment. He was surprised to find several sheets rolled together. Most of them appeared to be official documents of one form or another. One was a coroner's report, stating that Lucius had died of a coronary in his sleep. It was a small comfort – that he had not suffered any pain. Dead was dead though…and Draco was still without a father. Another one named Draco as the sole heir and now the official head of the Malfoy house. That same document decreed Lucius' wishes that Draco handle his funeral and similar arrangements. This caused Harry to worry. This was going to be a lot for Draco to deal with…even if the gesture was somewhat endearing on Lucius' part. 

Flipping to the next paper, Harry's eyes went wide. It was a letter to Draco from his father, dated two days after Draco had left the Manor. Harry fought the urge to read it and slipped it to the back of the pile. He rolled the parchment back up and had just set the documents on the coffee table when Draco padded out of the bedroom, looking more than morose. 

Immediately, Harry thrust his own cup of coffee into the boy's hands and slid over to make room for him. Draco sat down, clad only in a pair of pajama pants. The two rested in each other's silence for a long time – Harry keeping a watchful eye on Draco and Draco keeping his eyes firmly rooted to his mug. When he had at last emptied the contents, he leaned forward and placed the dishware on the table. It was then that he noticed the parchment. Reaching trembling fingers toward the rolled up papers, Draco stilled a moment before grasping them.

"Is this from my family?"

Harry couldn't find his voice, so he nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on Draco and ready to react in a split second should he break down again. 

Steeling himself, Draco reached out and took hold of the documents awaiting him. His eyes scanned over the first…the coroner's report. Harry watched as pale features scrunched up for a brief moment, but quickly relaxed. He wanted badly to ask Draco a barrage of questions, but fought against it. He continued to watch the new head of the Malfoy house sort through the documents, pausing frequently, yet never losing face. 

After what had seemed like an eternity, he finally came to the letter from his father. Like Harry, Draco's eyes became huge and the Gryffindor could see the emotion flowing through the other boy like poison in his veins. Draco let out a soft gasp and his hand came up to cover his mouth, the parchment slipping though his fingers and floating silently to the floor. He was still for a while and Harry noticed when he shivered, his skin raising in protest to the chill of the morning. Glad to finally have *some* way to help, Harry quickly scrambled into the bedroom to sweep the blanket off the bed and drape it over Draco's shoulders. 

When Draco had finally been under the quilt long enough to get warm, he shrugged it from his shoulders and bent down to pick up his letter. Heading away from the couch, Draco finally noticed that his flat had been repaired. He'd have to thank Harry later…the boy really was too good to him. He had, however, more pressing matters on his mind. Harry worried that he might be headed for the bar, but sighed in relief when Draco stopped and sat on the piano bench instead. Slowly, he lifted the letter and began to read. Harry was surprised with how well Draco kept his composure – only letting a few small whimpers escape his lips and a solitary tear slide down his alabaster cheek. Torn between wanting to give Draco his privacy and the urge to comfort him, Harry lingered a few meters away…simply watching. 

At last when Draco had finished, he placed the letter atop the piano and began to lazily press the keys. The sound was definitely musical, if not very organized. Harry doubted it was any actual tune at all. Crossing the distance between the two of them, he slid onto the bench next to Draco.

"That song you were playing last night…what was it?"

Draco let out a long breath. "Nocturne in F minor…Chopin…"

"…oh…" Harry didn't know much about classical music, although he did thoroughly enjoy it.

"It was his favorite…he used to take time out of his day to have me play it for him." Draco's misted eyes seemed to go unfocused for a moment and a small smile played upon his lips as he reflected on the memory. "I know that doesn't sound like much…but it meant the world to me…"

Harry placed his hand gingerly on Draco's knee. "Play it…for me? I'd like to hear it…really hear it…this time…"

With a sigh, Draco placed his manicured and sumptuous fingers on the keys and began the slow, sad melody. After a moment, his eyes drifted shut and soon the pace and volume picked up and Harry recognized the tune as the one Draco had been playing in an almost trance like state the night before. He played beautifully – and it wasn't just his skill that made it so. Draco had a spirit to him when his fingers graced the pads of ebony and ivory; he was playing from somewhere deep within himself. It was only after Draco had finished that Harry took any notice of the wetness on his cheeks. Whether it was the piano aria or the events of the last two days that brought him to tears, Harry could not discern. All he knew was that he had a sudden tightness in his chest, followed by a warm release, and the need to just…let it all go.

Draco, noticing Harry's state, reached over to wipe a tear from underneath his eye. "Harry…"

Harry held his hand up. "Don't"

Draco persisted. "I think we should…"

"We should what Draco? Talk? Why? Because it's the right thing to do the morning after? I didn't come here to sleep with you…I came to be here for you…and to help you. And I think I did…" Harry paused and chuckled a bit. "…help you I mean. I don't expect anything from you…and can you honestly tell me you really want to deal with any of this right now?"

Looking at the ground, Draco shook his head. Harry lifted his chin and smiled at him, his warm green eyes still glassy from shed tears. "It's okay…"

Harry led Draco to the sofa and sat him down before promptly bringing in two more fresh cups of coffee. Sitting on the opposite side of the couch, mirroring Draco with his back against the armrest; their feet met in the center, hidden under the blanket draped across their legs. After having settled, it was Draco who spoke first. 

"I have no idea how I'm going to plan his funeral…"

Harry looked a bit shocked. "So you're going to do it then?"

"He wanted me to…"

"I would help you…but I don't have a clue either…"

Draco sighed. "It's quite alright…this is something I have to do for myself anyway…"

Silence…not uncomfortable…but still heavy…hung over them a moment. 

Draco broke the stillness with an odd look that Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen on the blonde's face. 

"Would you like to read the letter?"

Blinking, Harry resisted the urge to scoop it up and read it immediately. "No…Draco. That's…private, isn't it?"

Sweeping the parchment from the table, he handed it to Harry. "Yes…it is. But I'd like…no…I *need* you to read it…just to be sure I haven't gone insane…"

Slowly, Harry lowered his eyes to the elegant scrawl of the late Malfoy senior. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

Harry began to read…

_Draco, _

_If you are reading this, I have expired, and we have not reconciled. I shudder to think of how many years have most likely passed by the time this letter reaches your hands. I may even burn it before it the time comes. Obviously…if you are reading than I have done no such thing. I am regretful, at times, of the way you were brought up. I tried to do my best and never doubt my intentions when remembering some of the hard lessons you have learned from me. You have been gone from my home for a slight less than forty eight hours now, and your absence can already be felt. Perhaps it is not your physical absence, but the finality with which you chose to leave that makes these halls seem empty now. I will never have told you these things…I do not know how. But now, my son, I will try. _

_I hope that you never return here. I cannot accept you as you are – my breeding and emotional stagnancy will not allow it. Be that as it may, I pray that you stay as far away from this family as possible, avoiding my fate and finding some semblance of happiness. I cannot give that to you, and so gone from me you must remain. _

_I took great joy in raising you. As a child you were difficult at times; this was due largely to me. However, I will always be fond of knowing that I fulfilled my duties to you, to the best of my ability. When I was able, I took full advantage of the time I had with you; to teach you to be a man. You have become a fine man, Draco. Perhaps this is because of, or in spite of me. I prefer to think of it as the result of both. _

_I did love your mother. Narcissa and I were never a storybook couple. We met not in romance, but in obligation. There was a time; however, that I could have said I loved her…as much as I am capable of such an emotion. Whether she ever loved me will always remain a mystery to me, I suppose. _

_Know this, my son. You have my respect, and my pride. How ironic that it is the wounds to that same pride that keeps us separated now. It is your defiance of me that reminds me that I did not fail you as a father, as my father failed me. I cannot be certain that I have ever known true love, of any form. However, you, my son, remain in my thoughts…my heart as well. _

_Your Father, _

_Lucius Malfoy._

Again, Harry found himself near tears.  He could never, in his wildest dreams, imagine *any* emotion coming from Draco's father. Then again…he could have said the same for Draco not so long ago. Finding no need to discuss the letter, Harry merely nodded his head at Draco to affirm that the message had, indeed, contained those words of endearment. 

After another long moment, Harry sniffed and looked Draco in the eye, smiling slightly. "It's Christmas Day, you know."

Draco's gaze lingered away, and out the window as a few crystal snowflakes broke free and floated down. "I'd forgotten…"

Harry also turned his gaze to the window and the fresh snow dancing its way toward earth. "I'd like to stay here with you today…"

Their tones were flat and soft…it was as if they had been discussing a novel or some other subject of mundane interest. Draco blinked and felt a leg rest against his own underneath the blanket. 

"…yes…I'd like that too…"

It was as if time had stopped for a while. Complete serenity encased the room, chasing away the chill, and the loneliness – even if only for a moment. Harry leaned back and settled into his spot on the sofa, warm and safe.

"Tell me about him."

Draco looked taken aback. "Eh?"

"I didn't know your father at all…come to think of it, it doesn't really sound like anyone did. But I'm sure you come the closest. Tell me about him…I'd like to know, and I'm sure you've never really been able to just remember everything…"

It took Draco a moment to process the opportunity he had been given, but when it hit him, his eyes lit up, and Harry knew he had asked the right question. Soon, he found himself smiling inwardly as Draco became animated once more, describing the man he had measured all others by, and most likely would throughout all of his days.

******************************************************************

TBC

Okay…I know this chapter was kind of pointless in the grand scheme of things…but I *loved* writing it. I had *severe* writer's block for a while (as I'm sure you noticed) and this just snapped me right out of it. 

Anyways, like I said, I loved writing this…the character development and the emotion. So PLEASE please please review and tell me what you think! 

Writer's block is officially gone now, so you can expect the next chapter soon. Next up, we have the funeral…oh joy. Oh and Michael is back next chapter too. We're on the home stretch here people. 

Thanks so much for reading…and sticking with me though this. 

Love and Kisses, 

Reika  


	14. The funeral

Disclaimer: I don't own them…sorry. I'm poor anyways, so suing would do you no good. *Pulls lint from pockets*

A/N: First off…wow…thank you all for the positive response to the last chapter. I will apologize in advance for this one…it's what I like to call 'a short journey into Reika's brain, where big shit happens that she can't figure out how to word'. 

Anyways, this chapter is short…but it needed to be. The next one will come soon…but this needed to stand alone, I think. Thanks, to Jasmine…for understanding me when sometimes I don't even understand myself. Like I told you…our moms had to have been smoking the same drugs…

OH…one more thing. I don't usually answer reviews specifically…but this one threw me for a loop. 

Elizabeth Turner: Sweetie…I'm 21, and married, so don't worry your pretty prepubescent head, okay? 

And BTW, (see above review for chapter 6)…do I really write like I could be 12?

Chapter 13………The funeral.

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The chill was almost tangible – slicing through the grey afternoon and leaving the tips of ears frigid, and fingers benumbed. The harsh and inclement air transformed the few tears that had been shed into crystalline vestiges – preserved – if only for a little while. 

Draco stood by his Father's grave, stoic. All around him he could see familiar faces; yet comfort evaded him. To his left stood Michael, steadfast and silent – his gloved hands resting at his sides. At his right, Pansy, sniffling occasionally, her arm linked with Draco's, though he was certain he'd lost feeling in his appendages long ago. He had not asked Harry to come with him; he hadn't the chance. The Gryffindor thought it most appropriate that he be absent, so as not to disrupt the service with old antipathies and avoiding the provocation of ignorant people. 

Narcissa stood a few feet from her son, detached and lifeless…as always. To anyone else, she might have been at a dinner party, judging by her expression. Draco, however, was a bit more familiar with the woman who had borne him. He could never claim to know his mother, but he noticed something in her eyes…or rather…something that *wasn't* in her eyes. Perhaps it was the way her head turned slightly to the left, her gaze lingering on the snow as if she were seeing it for the very first, or last time. It pained him, although minimally, to realize that he would never know just exactly what it was that was now missing from his mother's soul. It was now obvious that whatever spirit the woman had, Lucius had taken deep into the earth with him. 

Family friends, allies, distant relatives…all had gathered – most out of obligation – to mark the passing of the man Draco had spent the entirety of his life believing to be indomitable. 

The service had been simple, but elegant. No religious connotations…Lucius had not been a religious man, believing in man, and man's ability to control his own fate. Still, Draco found his gaze wandering upwards, to the heavens or to the sea of grey so closely resembling the orbs he stared into as a child he could not discern. Amidst his grief, confusing thoughts swirled inside his head. He thought of his own mortality, being brought up in a world with rules far more lenient than those of muggle existence had led him to think himself infallible. And now, with the wind on his face and his father at his feet, Draco could not help but feel small and ineffectual in a world where there was still so much that he did not know. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and run away. Run away from all that he had known in his life, and all he had yet to learn. He wanted to throw his arms open and feel the bitter cold sting his face, giving up…letting fate take him because finding his own answers was simply too hard. The sheer weight of realizing his place in the universe and existence of all things bore down on him and threatened to crush all he had fought to become. 

Ultimately…he stood still…unwavering and stoic in an overpriced suit. Ultimately…Draco acknowledged his place…and would fight tooth and nail to succeed as his family's head of house. Ultimately…Draco understood something about the universe he hadn't before – he didn't know *anything*. 

The thought was terrifying, and not just a little exciting. He vowed in that moment of intense introspection and bereavement that if he could change just one person the way he felt himself changed…if he could make just one soul finally see the fleeting nature of life…it's beauty, so intricately laced with sorrow and wisdom…he could leave this world and be free. 

Unbeknownst to him, Draco's Father had given him the most precious gift he could never have afforded…humility. Humility, and a deep desire to experience all this world had to offer him while his fleeting chance remained. 

Standing several meters away, hidden by the protective mass of a tree that had most likely known this planet for far longer than he, Harry Potter sighed. The air was brisk and clean and to breath it felt crisp and wonderful. Occasionally, snow would drift down onto his glasses, melting and leaving the world slightly blurry. He watched, protectively, from far away as the young man who had unwittingly and irreversibly altered his life said his goodbyes to his father. Something had changed in his sometimes lover…and Harry knew it. He could feel it from where he stood; bound to the other man by something neither could name nor explain. The difference was…subtle…but vital. Draco felt…softer…yet troubled. Harry could feel the waves of uncertainty rolling off of the other man…but stronger yet…he felt resolve. Resolve to do what, he couldn't name. In any case, Draco now had a sense of purpose about him like never before…and Harry was grateful for it. The Slytherin always seemed to flourish when given an aspiration. He was certain of one thing…amidst his grief and apparent realization, Draco still had much to deal with. Many things came with his new title…and he would need time. 

He watched the blonde toss a small bouquet of flowers atop Lucius' casket. A sprig of Acacia – for well concealed affection, a fern leaf – symbolizing magic, fascination, confidence and shelter, a single tiger lily – meaning wealth and pride. The blooms had most likely been enchanted to live eternally…unlike their human counterparts. At last he saw Draco toss down his final blossom…a single crimson rose, the sign of mourning. It was over now. 

Harry pulled his coat tight around him and headed away before he could be seen.

***************************************************************************

TBC

Extremely short…I know. Sorry, but I just couldn't put anything else in this chapter. I'm sorry if it was hard to follow…my brain short circuits sometimes. I wanted it to be about human nature in a way, the epiphanies we have that change our lives…and what brings them on. I hope I succeeded at least a tiny bit. 

Thank you all again for your time and trust. Please review. 

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	15. New discoveries and old comforts

Disclaimer: nope…don't ask.

A/N: Here is chapter 14…as promised. A lot happens here so I'm sorry if it confuses anyone…like I said, my brain malfunctions sometimes. I hope you like it. It's the first of the final 3…and like I said…*trust me*. Although…I'm sure Satan said the same thing…muhahahaha.

Thanks to Liz and Jasmine. My chicas. 

Chapter 14…………New discoveries and old comforts.

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Nostalgia…they call it. The scent instantly transported Draco back to his childhood; sitting in the gardens and feeling so small against the expanse of the grounds. He could almost feel the elation of his youth, walking with his Father to dinner and realizing there was but one foot separating their heights. He could see himself then, young, proud…naïve – the twelve inches distinguishing Lucius as a man, and Draco – a child. He blinked, and again he recognized the shadow of his former self, now eye to eye with his sire; yet still but a boy. 

It was the first time Draco had been in the Manor since fleeing it the night he became a man. Nothing had changed…nothing corporeal, anyways. The staircases still stretched upwards, defying the physics of exiguous man as though they lead to St. Peter himself; his footsteps still rang out, bouncing off the walls and impossibly high ceilings – no matter how softly he tread…the sound the very definition of loneliness. This was his home, no matter how cold, how uninviting it may be to the naked eye. And now it was his in name as well as sentimentality. 

Lucius had left almost everything he owned to his son, save a few hundred thousand galleons he had bequeathed to Severus Snape and, as was tradition, a sizeable fortune for the future heir. In his will he stated that he knew Draco would provide for his mother, seeing no need to leave any of his collateral in her name. Were she to remarry, as unlikely as it was, the Malfoy fortune could easily be usurped. Lucius was nothing if not protective of his birthright and his lineage. 

Although this Manor would always be home for him, Draco would not live here. This was his mother's house…and he would leave her to it. He wasn't ready to live here, away from all he had grown used to and so close to all he had fought to let go of. Perhaps one day, when peace found him and he no longer had anything to fight for, he could return here. He could sit in his Father's chair at the head of the table, sleep in his room, and die in the bed in which he was conceived. 

After collecting his things from his former room, Draco approached his Father's study. His hand lingered on the doorknob as he took a deep breath and forced himself to remember that when he opened the door, Lucius would not be sitting at his desk, the embodiment of all Draco once aspired to be. When at last he had gathered his wits enough to venture inside, the feeling that washed over him was not what he had expected it to be. As useless as words were for such things, the only way he could have described it would have been…comforting. It was almost as though he could feel Lucius with him…the room smelled of him, and although the sensation was not what one could call warm, to Draco it still carried familiarity with it…and it was enough. 

He sat at his father's desk and a small smile graced his lips as he ran his hands over every ornament, every quill. He supposed it was juvenile to take such joy in fingering all the objects he had not been allowed to touch in all his years…but Draco found himself far from caring. He picked up the one object that had fascinated him for years – his family crest. It was the heirloom Lucius used to seal his letters. Although Draco knew it by heart, he still could not help but run his fingers over the embossment as though seeing it for the first time. He remembered sitting in the chair he now faced, opposite his father's leather one, with his feet dangling inches from the floor. His skinny legs would swing back and forth while he fussed with his slicked back hair. It was one such time when Lucius explained their family crest to him. An M placed above a cockatrice, with a single peacock feather resting at its feet, the crest symbolized the Malfoys' position of power, beauty, pride and terror throughout history. He looked closely at the cockatrice – a dragon with the head of a rooster – a symbol of terror, and shook his head. His family had done so many terrible things over the centuries, yet he would die before he would be called any other name. It was this thought that led him to dig through the papers on the desk. He glanced over all official looking parchments, stopping at any that looked as though they might be what he was looking for and placing them into a pile for further inspection. 

He had been there for over an hour when the door opened and he lifted his head to see his former potions master standing a scant few feet from him. Professor Snape had a rare, soft expression on his face. Draco nodded at him to acknowledge his presence and continued with his task. Snape took a seat across the desk from him and sat quietly observing for a long moment before quirking a brow and smiling. 

Draco looked up and frowned. "What are you smiling at?"

"You look just like your Father sitting there with that look of frustrated concentration on your face. It's uncanny."

Not looking up this time, Draco answered him. "Was that a compliment?"

"Not really. It was merely an observation." He sat back and steepled his fingers, long and rough from a hard life's work, peeking out from the long robes he wore. "What, may I ask, are you doing?"

Draco sighed and dropped a stack of papers down to the surface of the desk before sitting back himself. "I'm looking for the papers that deal with the fund for my heir."

Snape quirked a brow. "Why would you be doing that? I highly doubt you're expecting…unless there's more to Potter than any of us were ever informed of…"

Draco scowled. "No…it's nothing like that. I want to dissolve it…give it to charity."

"But then what happens if your heir takes after his father and leaves? He'll be penniless…"

The younger man's face grew serious. "There won't be an heir."

Snape was concerned now. He leaned forward, looking Draco in the eye. "Come now Draco…you know there are other ways, should you choose to continue your lifestyle as it is currently. I would think that best anyways…you know who you are, and you shouldn't change. But, as I said, there *are* other ways. You may not be able to have a child with Mr. Potter, but you can have a child, Draco."

Draco smiled at his mentor. "I'm well aware of that, thank you. And this has nothing to do with Harry Potter. We're not even together…" He paused. "I've done my job…I've broken the cycle. I've already begun to change the Malfoy name and when I die, people will remember my name with true respect…not fear… It ends with me."

Snape rose and began to pace. "Draco, have you thought this through? You'll be ending thousands of years of carefully guarded lineage! People have died for your name…there have been wars –"

"You of all people should know what suffering my title has brought our world, Severus." Draco interrupted him. 

The potions master's face fell. His eyes doubled in size and he slumped into his seat, covering his mouth with his hand. "How…how did you know?"

Draco leaned against the desk. "I'm a smart boy. For a time I thought maybe you and my Father had been lovers…but I soon realized how very far off the mark that theory was. How can you look at your life…the suffering and rejection…and tell me that the ways of my family should be continued? Or…our family I should say…"

Severus had no answer. He merely stared and waited for Draco to continue. 

"You are slightly older than my Father, are you not?"

Snape nodded. "Yes…by less than a year."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "This should be your office…your house. But when your unmarried mother gave birth to you, your father had already named his heir…already impregnated his wife. If I thought giving you everything my Father had would change any of that…I would do it. It won't though…I can't change that you had to live your life as a bastard, Severus…but let me do this. Let me end this…and put our family to rest."

 The professor stood and nodded, once. It amazed him to see the man Draco had become…far from the selfish eleven year old brat that had first stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds like he owned them. As he crossed to the bookshelf, Draco spoke to him. 

"Were you close? When you were younger I mean?"

Severus stopped, his hand just resting on the book he had been looking for. Sadness crept into his eyes. "Once…yes, we were. There were things expected of him though…he couldn't be both the Malfoy heir and my brother. He tried though…he was there when I needed him…"

Snape pulled himself together and withdrew the book. He brought it to the desk and motioned for Draco to look at it. The young blonde man scowled and sat back, confused. 

"It's just an antique copy of a fairly common spell book. I have a newer one in my room…"

"No" Snape said, opening the book and sliding it over to Draco. 

His eyes widened and he reached out trembling fingers to touch the image of his own face, barely twenty four hours old. His infant self was not crying, merely sleeping peacefully; his tiny face scrunching up every now and then. 

"Merlin…is this...."

Draco looked up to his professor and received a nod. Needing to see more, he turned the page and saw more magic photos of himself doing various things and in various stages of his youth. Each photo had been placed carefully and great care had been taken to insure their protection. Not believing that such a sentimental shrine could belong to his father, Draco flipped the pages, one after the other…there must have been fifty of them. He was greeted with both memories he'd long forgotten, and images of events burned forever into his brain. Without even realizing it, he shed a solitary tear that slipped down his cheek and splattered onto a picture of himself…playing the piano. 

With a snap, he closed the book and swept it into his arms. He thanked Severus with a look that spoke volumes and the two of them silently left the study. Once downstairs, Draco said goodbye to his teacher and glanced around him. 

Everything looked the same…it always would. 

Narcissa sat by the window, as she often did. She gazed through the glass longingly, like a bird trapped inside a gilded cage. No one would ever know just what she longed for…or whom. She looked out on the snow with a solemn face, unblinking. Draco couldn't help but hope that she found whatever it was she was looking for. When he passed her, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of light reflecting off of her cheek…though it may have been an illusion. He said his goodbyes to her, and was not offended when she did not reply. 

Slipping out of the door for the second time in months, Draco did not feel as he did when he left his family. This time…he knew he would return…someday. But for now…it was time to go home…

****************************************************************

Michael greeted him with a small smile. He offered no words of comfort, and Draco was grateful – glad to be away from all the obsequious people that had been crowding him since his Father's death had become public knowledge. 

"Where are we going again?" The other wizard asked Draco. 

"The pitch Harry's team practices at, *why* they are practicing in this weather is beyond me, but…I need to thank him." 

"Ah. I should probably do the same…"

Draco stopped walking and turned to the man that had become his best friend…and almost more. "I need to thank you as well, you know. I know I wasn't very nice to you that night…well…I'm never very nice to anyone, but I'm sure you know what I mean. You give me something no one else does…and understand a part of me that no one else seems to be able to. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. With your help I think I've finally figured out what it means to be a Malfoy…and what I want it to mean…"

There was silence between them for what seemed like an eternity for Michael. Just when he thought he could reply, Draco leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his neck, crushing him against himself. Michael tried to fight away the thoughts that drifted into his mind when the scent that the blonde carried enveloped him. He tried to keep from noticing the softness of the platinum hair beneath his hands. He tried…and failed. Regardless of his unsuccessfulness, he quickly pushed Draco away and smiled sadly at him. 

Draco looked at his companion knowingly, and smiled back. They continued walking and without looking away from the path ahead of him, Draco spoke. 

"If you tell so much as a chizpurfle that I hugged you, you're fired." The comment held no malice, but Michael knew Draco was serious about protecting his pride.

Michael smirked. "Ha! I can see it now…after the Prophet headline declaring what a soft hearted chap you really are, women will be asking you to kiss their babies left and right…"

"Don't push it Cameron."

***********************************************************

When the two purebloods arrived at their destination, Harry noticed from his position high over the pitch. He dove down at breakneck speed, much to the displeasure of his coach, and landed a few meters away, his feet leaving deep imprints in the remaining snow. Draco nodded to Michael before crossing to Harry. The two of them strode away, talking quietly. 

Michael looked around him. He had played quidditch once, years earlier. After all…it was a camp for the game where he had first laid eyes on Draco Malfoy. Through the arrogance and superciliousness of the blonde, he had seen a complex and beautiful boy back then. He had almost had him that night by the lake, before Draco's fears caught up with him. Michael couldn't help but wonder how things would have been if Draco hadn't run away. Would it have been him at his side today? Would he be the one curled against his pale, lissome body at night while the rest of the world slept on…oblivious to what they were missing? Or would they be right where they are now – tied together, yet never as one because, ultimately, Draco's heart belonged to someone else? It was an interesting thing to ponder – whether or not the bond between Harry and Draco was simply a string of circumstances gone horribly wrong…yet somehow ending up more right than anything else in either of their lives…or if, on some level, it was meant to happen. If one way or another they would have found their fates intertwined…be it now or in the years to come. Michael decided to drop this line of thinking…once his brain started processing any sort of philosophy it never seemed to let him rest until he found some semblance of an answer. 

He hadn't even noticed he'd been staring off into space until a voice to his left caused him to snap back to reality. 

"I'd be staring too…both of them…together. It's almost too good to be true!"

Michael looked over and saw what he assumed to be a teammate of Harry's, as he was in the same training garb. He had chosen not to answer such an undignified comment (no matter how true it may have been), but found himself springing to action when the other man strode forward. 

"If you'll excuse me I have two beautiful boys to charm…"

Michael snatched the other man's arm and held him back with a grip that may have been a little firmer than was absolutely necessary. 

"You'll do no such thing. You ruin that moment..." he pointed to where Harry was walking with Draco "…and you answer to me. Got it?"

David turned and met his captor's face for the first time. The expression that took over his face was similar to that of a child in a candy store. "Wow…well then Mr. Tall, dark and handsome. If you like holding me here…you're free to handcuff me if you want." He followed his come on with a wink. 

Michael scoffed and released him, causing the smaller man to fall backwards on his bum. "Thank you no. Besides…that's a bit…tacky…don't you think?"

Fuming, David stood and brushed the dirt and snow from his posterior. "Well you're no fun" he mumbled as he stalked off to take a shower. 

Michael found a seat and rested, waiting for Draco to finish talking with Harry. It really was something that this blonde boy had done to him. Here he was, waiting like he had nothing better to do, while the object of his affections walked away with another…simply because Draco had wanted him there. He made a mental note to avoid blondes in the future…they tinkered around in his brain far, far too much.

***********************************************************

As Draco walked alongside Harry, he found himself unable to find the words he wanted to say. Harry, noticing this, started for him. 

"How was the service?"

"It was tolerable. Everything was right, I suppose. But with so little time it was…unexceptional."

"Ah." Harry fought the urge to tell Draco he had seen the service and that he had, indeed, done an exceptional job. "So, what was it you wanted?"

"Oh…" Draco trailed off for a moment before lifting his head and brushing his hair from his eyes. "I wanted to thank you…I never got around to it the other day…"

Harry smiled. "You don't have to thank me, Draco. I was there because you needed me…I'd do it again…"

Draco returned his gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "I know…and that's why I'm thanking you. I don't think I could have salvaged my sanity that night without you. And thank you for what you did to my apartment…I did notice…I was just…preoccupied."

"It was no problem. Even though the circumstances couldn't have been worse…I still liked spending the time with you."

"I agree…it was nice. So…thank you, Harry."

The two stood for a long moment, unsure of what to do before Harry realized he wanted, badly, to snake his arms around Draco's waist and bury his head in his angelic hair. He could still feel the changes in his dragon, however, and this steeled his resolve to let Draco go. To let him sort out his life and figure out all of the new feelings running through him. Harry was about to excuse himself and head for the showers when Draco lunged forward into his second impromptu embrace within one hour. Later, the pureblood would blame it on a mysterious virus that had infected only him, apparently. 

Harry brought his hands up around the other young man and simply held him there for a moment, breathing in his scent. When they broke away, Harry could see in Draco's eyes that he had learned a life's worth of lessons in a very short period of time. If Harry Potter was could be called anything, it would have been tenacious. He had it in his mind that letting go was the right thing to do and, ever the hero, that's exactly what he was going to do. Draco smiled a half smile and the two were silent again, both knowing they would soon part once more. The blonde was just about to turn when Harry suddenly uttered something unexpectedly. 

"White ginger…"

"What?" Draco was confused. 

"Christmas Eve…I couldn't figure it out. I knew it was amber…amber and something else….white ginger."

"I don't follow you Harry."

"Your smell…its amber and white ginger."

"…oh…"

Harry stepped in close and took a deep breath. "Yes…definitely. Don't look so worried…it's a good smell…I promise."

Draco quirked a brow. "Well thank you…I think."

Harry stepped back a bit. "I have to hit the showers now. Just so you know, Draco, you will make an amazing head for the Malfoy house…so don't worry, okay? You know I'm here if you need me…"

"Thank you."

As they headed their separate ways, neither one would know that they both shared the same look of longing on their countenances. 

When Draco had crossed back to Michael, he offered the other man his hand and helped him to his feet before they left the pitch and headed for Draco's flat. 

Michael eyed the suspiciously quiet Draco. "Did everything go as planned?"

Draco shot him a sideways glance. "There was no plan."

"Oh…well…is everything alright then?"

"Everything is fine,"

Quirking a brow, Michael looked behind them one more time. "Then why are we walking in one direction and Harry Potter in the other?"

"It's…complicated…"

"Ah. Well…you're the boss." Michael finished lamely as the two of them finished their journey in silence.

**********************************************************

TBC

Okay lovelies. Only 2 more chapters and an epilogue to go! Christ…I don't know what I'm gonna do when this thing is finished. 

Anyways…there was a lot in this chapter so be sure to review and tell me what you thought. 

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	16. Important

This is an author's note…but an important one. 

FF.net is cracking down on 'lemons'. Some really great stories have been removed recently because of content. FF.net is the largest and most popular place for fanfic readers and I think it is a shame that we cannot write freely. The internet is vast and underage readers will find NC17 material if they want it…it is inevitable. This is the reason for the rating system. To deem what is and is not appropriate is the responsibility of the reader and the reader alone. Programs such as netnanny are available for parents and others who do not wish to be exposed to mature material. As long as warnings are in place for hard R or adult content, this should not hinder the freedom for mature, responsible readers/writers. 

I encourage you to sign/start any petitions dealing with this new development or send ff.net's administrators email telling them that we, en masse, are responsible adults and will fight for our write to express ourselves. 

Should you choose to email, let me plead with you to be articulate and mature with your words. To do otherwise will be more harm than good. The administrators need to know that adult content *can* enhance a reading experience, and that all who choose to read it should be trusted to handle it accordingly.

Thank you and if anyone has any petitions, that I have not already signed, send them my way. I love this site…I began writing here and consider it my home for my works. I hate worrying that all my hard work could be erased because of questionable content. I'd like to think that my stories are tasteful and nondescript. I cannot, however, begin to guess what is deemed 'lemon' and what is not…for all we know, all slash and yaoi stories could be targets. FF.net and FictionPress.net are wonderful sites where writers of every shape and form can come together to give each and every reader something they will love. Please don't let them turn it into a Communist place where writers are scared to post.

Thank you.

Reika


	17. Problems

I cannot apologize enough for giving you another author's note. I wanted to let you know, however, that the latest chapter of What It Means is postponed temporarily due to anger management problems. (See latest reviews of all my HP works for details). I am so mad that I can't type. I have *never* flamed anyone, or been flamed in my life and am unsure how to deal with it. So give me a few days…I'll try to have it up soon. 

Love and Kisses (of death)

Reika


	18. The Consequences of Being Me

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: THANK YOU ALL for the reassuring reviews. In retrospect, I am less bothered by the flame and would have been fine if I had just slept on it (or not seen it at 3 am after a few solid hours of drinking at the bar). To tell you the truth I am almost embarrassed for letting her (or him…) get to me. It surprised even me; since my usual reaction is a big 'fuck you' to things like that. In any case, I am very grateful for all the love you guys sent my way. You guys keep this going. 

Ice Lupus: Thank you so much for both your review and taking the time to read my story. I apologize if I offended by my other author's note – I never meant to imply that you, nor anyone else, is a communist. You are correct in that communism is a theory, almost utopian in nature, and that it is often the people who implement said theory that attach negative connotations to it. It is, however, a common mistake to equate the theory itself with the heinous results of the manipulation of that theory by man. The key, however, is that it was a *mistake*. I tend to be a hot headed person, and the wording that I chose to use was horribly misplaced. I apologize. I cannot say that I have changed my mind about the policies…as a self-avowed hedonist I enjoy the 'freedom of everything'. (That was a joke by the way). I have, however, thought a great deal about it and can definitely understand the merit of what you presented to me. Thank you so much for sending me the review (both of them)…I have a very genuine respect for anyone who can tell me I'm full of shit and give me *good* reasons for it. Lol…seriously though….thanks and keep reading. 

Speaking of keeping it going…I have a few neuroses. Things went from smooth to bumpy with all this in a scant 24 hours and it has frazzled my nerves. I have a proposition for you (as inspired by Rowenna's review). You guys have my eternal thanks for all the love you sent my way. THANK YOU. It was great...now, as long as its okay with you guys, I say lets get down to business and finish this story, ne? It's done, and over. Thank you again for your support. 

:) 

Now with all my love, my lovely lovelies….on with chapter 15!

Thanks goes, as always, to *my* Jasmine and *my* Liz (that's right you silly bitches….yo ass is mine!)

BTW…I didn't intend for this *entire* chapter to be about being gay…it just turned out that way. And I apologize if any of the French is incorrect. I have to use an online translator…as I do not speak French, sadly. This was started at 3 am and finished at 7am…so I apologize for any mistakes I didn't catch. 

Chapter 15……………..The consequences of being me.

**********************************************************

It was odd; Ron thought…the far off look on Harry's face. He, Harry and Hermione got together rarely now that they all had their own jobs…their own lives…and Harry had barely said a word to either of them. They were sitting at small muggle café and while he and Hermione chatted about the new year being only days away, Harry simply stared down at his plate with unfocused eyes. Ron had finally had enough and threw a piece of bread at him, knocking his glasses crooked. Harry squawked and righted them before looking at his best friend confusedly.

"Where are you mate? We've been sitting here talking for almost an hour and you haven't said a word!"

"Sorry" Harry all but mumbled. "It's just…my season ended. I'm still endorsing the brooms, but only part of the time…with it being winter and all. I just don't know what I'm going to do with my time…"

Ron scoffed and threw another crumb at him. "Poor you! Mr. One-Of-My-Fantastic-Jobs-Is-Giving-Me-Months-Off-To-Do-Whatever-I-Want-With-My-Piles-Of-Money!"

Harry laughed at the look on Ron's face – the former Gryffindor was renowned for his expressions. "Sorry Ron…I didn't think of it that way. But you're right…and that's part of the problem. You and Mione are going to be busy…and I'll have no one to talk to…"

"Why don't you travel, Harry?" Hermione interjected.

Harry brightened a bit. "Hmm. I never thought of that. Ireland was wonderful…except for that whole brawl thing…"

"You could go anywhere you want to. You have the money…and the time. I would think it would be a shame *not* to travel."

"I know…" Harry started "…it's just that I'd hate to go alone. You guys can't come with me…and Draco certainly can't leave right now. Not that traveling with him would be a good idea in any case…"

Ron burst into a grin and resisted the urge to throw more food at Harry. "Bloody hell….you're *Harry Potter* I'm sure you'll find good company wherever you go, mate."

Harry smiled warmly at his two very best friends. The oddly matched couple had seen him through everything for almost eight years. "Not this good."

**********************************************************

Draco and Michael had been arguing for over an hour and neither of them were willing to budge.

"Just let me go, Draco. I've done this a million times; it will be quick and easy."

"No. This is *my* company and I want to do it. It's a challenge."

Michael sighed in frustration and gripped his hair. "But it doesn't *have* to be a challenge…that's what I'm bloody telling you! If you'd just let me handle it we'd be celebrating the closing by now."

"Sorry Cameron." The stubborn blonde spat out. "And what makes you think you'd be any better than I would?"

Michael flashed a smile. "I'm a whiz with the ladies…that's why."

Draco looked gob smacked. "My arse! I was under the impression that you actually had no interest in the 'ladies'…or did I *imagine* your hand on my bum a while back?"

"Listen, Malfoy. I don't have to like women to make them think I do. Charm is charm…it just comes naturally."

"Oh thank you very much. Are you implying that I have no charm? I'm Draco *Malfoy*, if you look up 'charm' in the dictionary you'll see my sodding picture. And watch it before I make you call me *Mr. Malfoy*.

"Oh I beg your pardon *Mr.* knight in shining armor. You have charm oozing out of your pores. It's just (mumble mumble) charm."

"What was that?"

"…….."

Draco held up his hand. His thumb and index finger had about an inch of space between them. "This close Michael. You are *this* close. You've managed to confuse me, paint me *without* my permission, molest me, and now you're saying I have (mumble mumble) charm. Out. With. It."

Michael fidgeted before throwing his hands up. "Fine. GAY charm, okay….you have *gay* charm."

Draco stopped cold. His eyebrow began to twitch and he snarled like a threatened wolf. "Ex-cuse-me?"

"Look…" Michael began explaining hurriedly before he lost his job…or an eye. "…just listen to me. I've been doing this for a long time. There are different 'types' of gay men. You are in *no* way a flaming homosexual. It's just…you have the 'perfect man' syndrome. You're good looking, rich, young, single, articulate and well dressed…you *have* to be gay. Women can smell it...like fear. Trust me. It's taken me years to turn it off…"

The younger of the two calmed, albeit slightly, and his eyebrow ceased it's twitching. "I hate you."

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't know whether to thank you or fire you. I can't tell if that was a compliment. Damn you!"

Michael sighed. "Don't do either…just let *me* go, okay?"

"No."

"Damnit Draco, I-"

"No."

"If you'd just-"

"No. I'd like to test this 'perfect man' theory of yours. Besides…as I said, this is my company and I'll do what I see fit. I'm going."

"At least let me go with you."

"Fine. And I'll have you know that no one knew I was gay until less than a year ago!"

Michael smirked and quirked a brow. "I did."

"Oh shut up."

******************************************************

Everything was set. On New Years Day, Harry would leave for an indefinite stay in Ireland. He looked forward to the trip greatly, as it would give him a much needed break from all the recent stress. Still, he couldn't help but feel lonely – and in truth he knew he would be lonely even in a room full of people…unless one of them had platinum blonde hair. 

He scoffed and dropped his pamphlets onto his desk. This was exactly why he needed a vacation. He was about to owl Ron and Hermione to give them the news when he received an owl himself. He recognized the bird as the one belonging to Mr. Bramble – owner of Harry's quidditch team and Firebolt brooms. He took the parchment from her and smoothed her feathers before breaking the seal and reading the message. 

_Mr. Potter, _

_I would like to ask that you, at your convenience, stop by my office before the close of tomorrow's business day. I have some endorsements I would like to discuss with you before the holiday. _

_A. Bramble._

It was only early afternoon, and Harry had no other plans for the day; so he decided he might as well floo over to see the tycoon right then. He couldn't help but wonder what the man wanted so close to the New Year. Unable to figure it out, he decided that the quickest way to quell his curiosity was to simply put on a nice robe and head over to ask him. After a quick fifteen minutes of preparation, Harry was ready to speak to his employer, and grabbing a handful of floo powder, he disappeared in a flash of green light. 

When he came tumbling out the massive marble fireplace, Harry cursed silently. He briefly noted to remember to fund research for a less jarring but equally effective method of wizard travel. He was immediately met by Mr. Bramble's secretary. A petite and bright eyed young woman, Harry supposed she was attractive…for a woman. He couldn't help but be annoyed, however, when she giggled, as she always did, upon realizing she was face to face with Harry Potter. Nonetheless, he smiled brightly at her and pretended he did not see the blush tint her cheeks. 

"Mr. Bramble wasn't expecting you so soon. Let me tell him you're here."

Harry nodded and she disappeared for a moment. He used the time in which she was gone to look around him. The interior of the room was not what one would expect for a business man. The building itself was ancient, but well kept and the décor was almost…sentimental. Pictures adorned the walls, along with several works of art done by the orphans in a home Mr. Bramble funded through charity. Harry himself was scheduled to visit those children in roughly four months time. The maudlin decorations seemed almost out of place surrounding the expensive furniture and fine rugs. Harry didn't have too much time to consider his observations because a short moment later, the secretary returned and with a girlish smile she directed him into the office of their mutual employer. 

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Potter?" she asked in a sing song voice. 

Harry nodded. "Yes please. Two sugars – black. Thank you."

After she left, Harry turned his attention to the round older man sitting behind his desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes…I've started an aggressive new campaign using your image and I wanted to brief you on it."

Harry was a bit surprised that apparently what ever it was his boss had in mind he had already implemented and merely wanted to inform Harry of the changes. He nodded at him to continue and the older man smiled. 

"I've been studying your fan base – from when you were merely 'The Boy Who Lived', and then when you were 'The Boy Who Killed Voldemort And Lived', and finally when you were, and pardon my frankness, 'The Gay Boy Who Killed Voldemort And Lived.'

Harry wasn't sure he liked where this was going. He had countered homophobia before, but Mr. Bramble knew about all of this before he hired him to either of his positions. If the older man had any problem with him, common sense told Harry he would have mentioned it earlier. 

"No offense, sir…but I don't see where you're going with this."

"Well, my boy, it turns out that you can do no wrong. Every outrageous action you take fuels the public's respect for you. When you…came out…wizards all over the world suddenly knew that it was okay for them, if it was okay for Harry Potter."

"Okay…"

"Mr. Potter…you are a gold mine – and your current lifestyle opens up all kinds of possibilities. I need you to use it. I need you to be public about it."

"Excuse me? *Straight* people don't 'use it'…why should I have to?"

"Mr. Potter…if your preference happened to be hippogriffs, I would tell you to use it. This has nothing to do with you being gay…it has to do with you being Harry Potter."

"No. I don't see how it's anyone's business, or how it could be considered lucrative at all."

The other man's voice held no malice, yet it was stern and laced with a hard earned confidence. "I have been a business man for many many years. Your job is to catch the snitch, smile for the camera and save the world occasionally. Leave the accounting to me."

 Harry gaped. "So let me get this straight… no pun intended of course. You want to exploit me, and all the countless people who actually *believe* in me for the sake of profit while I just smile pretty and let you?"

"I wouldn't word it exactly like that Mr. Potter…"

"So I'm paraphrasing a bit…but essentially that's what you want to do, right?"

Mr. Bramble rubbed his chin for a moment before nodding reluctantly. 

"No!"

The older man sat back and steepled his fingers. "Mr. Potter, you are under contract to do what I tell you to. I would hope you'd think this over before making any rash decisions."

Harry jumped up and lunged forward, leaning across the desk and knocking over various ornaments. "This…" he lifted the curtain of his hair to reveal his scar. "…is my contract. It's binding, and that means *I* set the rules. I will not allow you to exploit one of the hardest decisions of a person's life. Now, I suggest *you* think this over before I show you what Firebolt brooms are *really* good for."

He had straightened and was turning to leave when the secretary came fluttering in, carrying his coffee. She giggled again and held the cup out for him. "Your coffee Mr. Potter."

"SOD YOUR COFFEE!" he yelled as he stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

After the pictures on the wall stopped shaking from the force of Harry's exit, Mr. Bramble gave his young secretary the rest of the day off. The poor girl's nerves were shot…after all…Harry Potter yelled at her for no apparent reason. 

When he was finally alone in his office, the wizard tycoon sat back in his seat with a genuine smile. Although a business man by trade, he had always been an honest man at heart, and had respect for true integrity. It was, after all, rare. 

"Good boy…you'll do the most amazing things in life…"

******************************************************

Draco and Michael arrived at the restaurant to meet Mrs. Emma Huntington.

"Refresh my memory on this woman." Draco commanded. 

"She's in her mid-thirties and her husband owns several muggle corporations. Being a squib, she likes playing with her husband's money and starting several generally useless wizard charities and organizations. As inadequate as most of her endeavors are, a few actually hold quite a bit of merit and she seems to have grown bored with them. Looking for someone to take them over, she's meeting with several interested parties."

"This is where we come in." Draco half-stated, half-asked while looking down one last time to insure he looked immaculate.

"Correct. Money is no object, and she seems to be basing her decision on who can amuse her the most. So now would be the time to turn up that charm you were bragging about."

"Right."

As they approached the table, Draco found his lips forming the smile that had always gotten him anything, or anyone, he wanted. His blonde hair fell perfectly over his face, partially covering one eye and he wore a form fitting black sweater with black slacks tailored to accentuate his…assets.

Mrs. Huntington looked up from her martini glass and smiled at them, her brown hair held in a tight bun high on her head. She was not what one would call gorgeous, or even pretty, but she looked classy and polished. Her neck and wrists were adorned with precious jewels, although not gaudily. When the two men arrived, she extended her hand and Draco took it gingerly in his own before kissing it and smiling. At his flirtatious actions she quirked an eyebrow and her lips formed a small smile. 

When the waiter finally arrived to take their order, Draco, noting that they were in a French restaurant, ordered in the appropriate tongue. Hearing this, the socialite smiled brightly at him.

"Parlez-vous Français, Malfoy de Monsieur?"

_(do you speak French, Mr. Malfoy?)_

"Bien sûr, ma dame."

_(Of course, my lady.)___

She smiled again and nodded her head slightly. "Nice, Mr. Malfoy…very nice."

Everything had gone wonderfully. Draco's wit and Michael's worldliness had thoroughly entranced the aristocratic woman. All three of them were just beginning to loosen up, having ordered after dinner drinks, when she decided to change the subject. 

"I don't hear too much news about your world, as I am a busy woman, but something *did* pique my interest earlier this morning. Did you know that Harry Potter is endorsing Firebolt brooms?"

Draco almost spit his drink out at the mention of his former lover, but managed to swallow gracefully. Michael immediately took the reigns. "We've heard something like that, yes."

"I would really think Mr. Bramble would have better sense than to hire a gay to be his spokesperson. Really…what kind of example does that set for the children who see his sinful face on all those posters?"

Michael instantly took charge, sending Draco a look that said 'down boy' and smiled at their now unwelcome companion. "I try not to bother myself with the business of others."

She scoffed. "Well you should start, Mr. Cameron. It is the responsibility of everyone in a community to keep it morally sound. What about you, Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel about this?"

Draco was caught off guard by her question and was unsure how to answer her. Thinking on his toes he decided to take Michael's route and be vague, although he was genuinely horrified by the woman's attitude towards his lifestyle. "I, myself, have been a very busy man as of late, Mrs. Huntington. I'm afraid I haven't had the time to consider it."

"Well I have and I think it's horrid." She glanced down at her watch and her voice regained its cheerfulness. "Look at the time. I have a grooming in an hour, so I really must be on my way."

Casting an apathetic look at Michael and a much warmer smile at Draco she began to gather her coat and purse. "Mr. Malfoy, my husband and I are hosting a fabulous party tomorrow night for the New Year. I would absolutely love for you to attend so that we can discuss our mutual interests further."

Draco nodded on instinct, anxious for her to leave. Before she took her exit, though, she turned and called over her shoulder. 

"Ah yes…and be sure to bring your girlfriend! I would love to see what kind of woman can tame a dragon."

After she had disappeared completely Draco dropped his head to the table with a groan. "If only she knew…"

Michael chuckled softly. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. But I am certain about one thing."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I think I might be *too* charming for my own bloody good…"

****************************************************************

TBC

Thanks again you guys. I hope you liked this one. It's nowhere near as heavy as the last few. It was kind of hard to get out of that flow though…I think I write best when I'm crushing someone's soul. Call it a gift…

Anyways…like I said (and can't say enough), thanks. 

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


	19. A Happy New Year

Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them.

A/N: *Tears* THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! Waaa….I cried like a little bitch when this was done. This has been so great, I've loved writing this story, and THANK YOU ALL for sticking with me this far! If I could kiss each of you, I would. I've decided to nix the epilogue…this was supposed to end differently than it did, then the epilogue…but I like this better. So this is it, my lovelies, this is all she wrote (literally). 

Again…I cannot thank you enough, all of you, for reading and reviewing my story. I would put up individual thanks, but there would be so many that this would take another week to post…and I don't think you want that. So thank you, *all* of you. 

My deepest and greatest thanks to Jasmine, for betaing this and just generally being my other half. 

Thanks to Liz, the sun in my sky, for all her support and lovin'. 

Please read and review…and thanks again.

Chapter 16………..A Happy New Year.

**********************************************************************

New Years Eve – all along the streets of London, Draco could hear the chattering of voices floating through to him, carried on the wind. He walked along, hands deep in his coat pockets, strands of platinum hair occasionally whipping into his face and obscuring his vision. His scarf flapped along behind him and his steps developed a rhythm in time with the click of his shoes against the pavement. 

He wasn't particularly excited about the evening, having to attend a party and pretend to be something he most definitely was not. He was, however, eager to begin a new year. He was now officially Malfoy Senior (if one could be considered as such with no 'junior' to speak of) and although his Father's recent passing still invaded his dreams on occasion, he felt that the coming months had big things in store for him. He would face them all with the competence and grace bequeathed to him by Lucius himself. 

It was perhaps this very path of absent thinking that aided in Draco's colliding with another person on the street. He shook his head to clear his straying thoughts and when he looked over to the unfortunate soul he had crashed into, he was surprised…to say the least. 

"Harry…what are you doing out here?"

Harry Potter rubbed his sore bum and was but a breath away from inventing new swear words for whomever had so carelessly knocked him over when he heard a familiar voice. When he managed to get his glasses back up his nose his suspicions were confirmed…it was indeed Draco Malfoy bending down to help pick up his things. 

"Are you the one who knocked me down?"

Draco looked away. "Err…no?"

With a mock scowl that quickly morphed into a grin, Harry lifted himself up. "Nice try you clumsy idiot. Why don't you watch where you're going? I could sue you, you know!"

Catching on, Draco feigned an outraged face. "Do your worst…my lawyer will eat you alive!"

The two could only hold straight faces for a few seconds before they both dissolved into laughter. Harry braced himself by placing his hand on Draco's shoulder, yet still could not get his snickers under control. 

"Your lawyer will eat me? Draco, that's horrid. You're famous for crushing someone's spirit with one sentence…I'm disappointed in you."

Draco brushed Harry's hand away. "Well I wasn't expecting that I'd have any soul crushing before lunch today. Besides…I heard it in a film…"

"You're watching films now?"

"No…there weren't any infomercials…"

Harry mimicked Draco's usual gesture and quirked a brow. "You're a strange one alright…but that's what I lo–" Harry stopped mid-sentence and quickly changed the subject. 

"Speaking of lunch…have you eaten?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, clearing his eyes of the now windblown locks that were threatening to blind him. "Actually no, I was just going to pick up something on the way back to the flat…but we could sit down somewhere if you want to."

Harry nodded and the two headed into a café not far from where they had collided on the street. Once inside both men removed their coats and Harry chuckled at Draco's fussing over his disheveled hair. Draco noticed his tittering and narrowed his eyes. 

"I'll have you know its days like this I strongly consider gelling it back again, Potter."

Harry pulled a face and shook his head. "Please no…if you never listen to me again, do *not* do that."

The two were shown their seats and after they each had placed an order, Draco withdrew a cigarette and promptly lit it, inhaling deeply and expelling the smoke away from Harry. 

"I thought you quit that…*again*…" Harry scowled. 

Draco seemed unaffected by the reprimand. "It's been a stressful holiday."

"I'll give you that." Harry relented and silence fell over them briefly before Draco leaned forward and looked Harry in the eye.

"So tell me, Harry, what plans do you have for the New Year?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Harry began. "I'm leaving tomorrow for Ireland."

Draco quirked a brow. "Oh? Sounds nice…for how long?"

Sighing, Harry looked away. "I'm not sure, really. I have a one way ticket…I'm guessing I'll stay there until my season starts again…that is…if I still have a job…"

Draco stubbed his cigarette out as the waiter returned with their drinks. Both Harry and Draco chose to ignore their server's blatant staring at the green eyed boy and continued their conversation. 

"Okay Harry, one thing at a time. First, why might you not have a job?"

"Oh…that…" Harry blushed. "Well…I kind of…yelled at my boss."

"What in Merlin's name possessed you to do that?"

"He wanted me to be 'openly gay' or some such bullocks…for publicity…"

Draco grimaced, remembering his own troubles. "How odd…I'm currently in the middle of a deal with a woman who is horribly homophobic."

Harry drew back a bit and gaped at the other young man. "And you're still doing business with this person? Damn Draco…what happened to you? Granted, I'm glad you're not horribly vicious anymore…but the Draco *I* know would have made such a woman want to kill herself when he was through with her…"

With a groan, Draco leaned back roughly against his seat. "I know…I just…haven't had to deal with this yet. Even my Father didn't particularly care that I was gay…he just…" he tapered off without finishing his sentence, looking lost for a moment before forcing himself to brighten. "And I'm offended! I'm *quite* horribly vicious…I'm just…laying low for a bit. Being an evil overlord takes a lot out of me…"

Harry smiled at his companion's success in shaking off his sadness. Draco was getting better at fighting away his demons, and Harry was grateful for it. Going back to their previous topic, Harry tilted his head a bit and gave Draco a concerned look. 

"So what are you going to do then? About the woman?"

The blonde shrugged. "To be honest, I think I'm going to go to her silly party this evening and just pray that no one causes a scene."

Harry shook his head. "Well I for one would think you'd had enough of hiding out in the closet…but it's your life, I suppose."

Draco took his cue to change the subject. "What are you doing tonight then?"

"Oh, I'm going to spend some time at the Weasleys'…they always have fantastic parties. I suppose I won't be there late though, as I have to pack."

"Ah yes…" Draco began "…the trip. So, what brought this move of yours on?"

Harry smiled, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. "My season ended and I have a lot of free time. Ron and Hermione are going to be too busy to spend much time with me…and well…you've been through a lot, so I wanted to give you…space."

Draco returned the lacking smile. "*I* don't need space, or time, Harry. If this miserable excuse for a holiday season has taught me anything it's that we don't really *have* time in this life. I've achieved the goals I wanted to…or at least started out in the right direction to do so. I've only really cared about two people in my life…and I buried one of them four days ago."

"Draco, I–"

"Listen Harry…I've come a long way in a short while, but I wouldn't trade what I have learned for anything in this world. I left my Father's house scared and terribly unsure; but since then, and even before that…I think, you've been a major factor in helping me determine what I want, who I am…and what my name *really* means. I want you to have the same thing. If you need to run, then run…if you don't know what you need, then run. I'll be here when you figure it out."

Draco stood and gathered his coat, leaving enough money to cover the bill on the table. Harry scrambled in his mind for something, anything to say, but couldn't force the words from his lips. 

"Dra–"

Before Harry could finish a word he was cut off by the familiar feel of soft pale lips brushing against his own. Draco tasted of cigarette smoke, and faintly of honey. Harry wondered briefly if he smoked flavored cigarettes. The kiss was over soon, though, and before Harry could even form a coherent thought…Draco was gone. 

**************************************************  
  
Evening had finally come and Draco Malfoy was nervous. Of course, he would have rather admitted to having the bubonic plague than to let anyone know that something as simple as a party could unsettle him. Michael, however, was not fooled. 

"Really Draco, *must* I hold your hand through everything?"

Draco slapped his hand away. "You're the one that wanted to do this in the first place, so quiet yourself before I bludgeon you and find another 'date'."

Michael smirked at batted his eyelashes at his blonde boss. "Does this mean I'm your girlfriend?"

"Well I suppose if anyone has to be the woman, it's definitely you."

Michael frowned at Draco's retort. "I resent that."

Before Draco could deal another blow to his colleague's ego, they had arrived at their destination. After knocking on the door, they were received by a man in a black tuxedo who took their coats. They were escorted into the party room where, not long after arriving, Mrs. Huntington noticed Draco and floated her way through her guests to greet him. 

"Mister Malfoy, I am so glad you could make it!" Her face darkened a bit when she noticed Michael's presence at Draco's side. 

After a greeting that both felt and sounded obligatory to the tall, dark haired wizard, the prejudiced sophisticate glanced around the room again. 

"Where's your date Mr. Malfoy?"

************************************************

Harry stepped into The Burrow and immediately he was flooded with the sense of warmth he had always associated with the Weasley family – the only real family he had ever known. Molly instantly enveloped him in a hug.

"Harry dear, it's so good to see you; you've been gone from this house for far too long. Arthur and the boys are in the kitchen."

Harry smiled warmly at the closest thing to a mother he'd ever had and made his way to the kitchen where it appeared the Weasley men and a few others were already well on their way to inebriation.

As soon as Harry's presence became noticed by the others, he was greeted with a chorus of hellos. Arthur motioned for him to sit with the rest of them, and for a moment he forgot his troubles in the company of his friends. 

*************************************************

Draco just stared lamely at Mrs. Huntington for a moment, unsure of what to tell her and berating himself for not preparing an answer in advance. Thinking quickly, he invoked his Slytherin trait of misleading. 

"My better half had an important event to attend to this evening."

Michael sighed in relief, and Draco was just about to do the same when he felt a pat on his back. When he turned around the face he met was not unfamiliar, nor specific. Draco was sure he'd seen the man before, he just wasn't sure where. 

"Draco Malfoy, I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again. You do know, Emma, that this is Lucius Malfoy's boy, right?"

The woman seemed annoyed with her other guest's presence. "I had made the connection, yes."

Too drunk, or too dull-witted to take his host's curt tone as a hint, the man continued with his rambling. 

"I was so sorry to hear about your father's passing; I hope you two reconciled before all of this…"

Before Draco could answer, Mrs. Huntington interrupted. "Were you estranged from your father, Mr. Malfoy?"

At Draco's nod, she continued. "Whatever for?"

Again before Draco had the chance to speak for himself, the irritating mystery man (who knew far too much about him for Draco's liking) answered for him. 

"Draco here broke the Malfoy line – walked right out on his father and moved in with Harry Potter."

Immediately both Michael and Draco winced while Mrs. Huntington's expression became one of outrage. 

"Better half, Mr. Malfoy? I take it you meant Mr. Potter then?"

Something in Draco snapped – whether his instincts told him go on the defensive, or he just tired of the woman's voice he couldn't tell; but at that moment he simply quirked one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Actually, I didn't mean *anyone* specific at the moment – but if you *must* know, 'Mr. Potter' was at one time my lover."

The woman's jaw dropped and both Michael and Draco were just about to turn and leave when again she opened her mouth. 

"I'm sure your father was ecstatic to get rid of you then. Imagine, Lucius Malfoy's son a liar and a deviant!"

Draco whirled around and snarled, the look in his eyes wild and dangerous. Before he could react, Michael had grabbed his arm and bent down to whisper in his ear. 

"You are in a room full of muggles. This woman *will* have you arrested, Draco."

His friend's words calming him a bit, Draco resisted the urge to body slam the woman. He took a deep breath and advanced on her evenly – but the look in his eyes remained. He reached out his hand and harshly poked the woman in the shoulder as he spoke – his words sharp.

"*You* know absolutely nothing about my Father, or me. Because if you did, you would know better than to insult the sole heir of a *very* long line of dark wizards. *I* am the Malfoy heir, and that means that I don't need your company, or your approval. And if I were you, I would refrain from any more ventures into the wizarding world. We may be in a room full of muggles now, but the world of magic is *my* home and if you taint it with your intolerable presence again, I *will* kill you."

When Draco stormed out, Michael could only shrug and wink at the stunned and frightened woman before calling out a mockingly cheerful "Ta!"

Once the two were safely outside, Draco remained silently angry for a short moment before bursting into laughter. Michael soon followed. 

"That felt bloody fantastic! I want to go back in and do it again!"

Michael threw up his hands. "I wouldn't go that far. What do you want to do now?"

Draco thought on it a moment and shrugged. "To be honest…I think I'm just going to go back to the flat. I'll have a glass of wine; maybe turn on the telly and countdown the New Year. You're welcome to join me."

Michael's face became a little more serious. "I don't think that's such a great idea. Seeing as its New Years, I intend to be highly inebriated and I don't think you want me to kiss you when midnight strikes."

Draco chuckled. "I suppose you're right. What are you going to do then?"

"I suppose I'll find some club or bar and some deliciously pretty boy to kiss."

"You are insufferable, do you know that?"

Michael nodded. "I've been told. You'll just apparate home then?"

When Draco nodded, Michael leaned in and his face became concerned. "Why don't you just call Harry Potter?"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "Is that all anyone ever wants to know about? Harry? If you must know, he's leaving in the morning for Ireland."

"Yes. In the *morning*."

"Personally, I don't think I'm up for another one night rendezvous."

Michael smiled and pat the younger man on the shoulder. "Well, suit yourself. But if you need someone to kiss, call me."

Draco shook his head and grinned as the two men apparated to their separate destinations. 

**************************************************

Harry laughed as Fred and George told yet another joke. He had only been drinking long enough to feel a slight flush on his cheeks – nowhere near the amount his companions had consumed. Looking around, he noticed that something was definitely missing. 

"Ron, where's Mione?"

"Oh!" Ron managed "She was real caught up and didn't know if she'd make it. She told me to give you this for her though."

Ron handed Harry a simple card, his name scrawled on the envelope. 

"What is it?"

Ron shrugged, but before he could say anything, Fred interrupted. 

"Careful Harry, knowing Hermione it's a shrunken book for you to read on the plane!"

Harry laughed and slipped the card into his pocket. "In that case, I'll open this when I get home."

Ron stood, wobbling a bit as he did, and tugged on Harry's arm. "C'mon mate, come sit outside with me."

Harry complied and soon the two were sitting under the stars. Harry rubbed his arms to warm them. 

"It's cold."

"Yeah…" Ron said "…but it feels great, doesn't it? Winter feels…clean to me."

"I know what you mean…"

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you here?"

Harry turned to look at his ginger friend. "What do you mean?"

Shrugging, Ron pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, fighting off the cold. "Why aren't you with Malfoy?"

Harry was shocked that his best friend could ask him such a question honestly. "Why do you care, Ron? I thought you hated Draco…"

"Hate is a strong word, Harry. I can't say I'm fond of the git…but…I've been thinking lately…"

When silence followed his comment, Harry grew frustrated and prodded him. "…and?..."

"And having Mione gone so much…I'm lonely. I've learned that I *need* her around me to be happy…"

"That's great Ron…" Harry started, scratching his head "…but I don't see what that has to do with me…"

"I'm just saying that if anything *I* said has anything to do with you two not being together…you shouldn't listen to me. Sometimes I think other people might not want me with Hermione, you know. I think I might not be good enough…smart enough. But I don't care…because I need her."

Harry smiled at his friend and offered him a warm hug. "I promise you, Ron…there couldn't possibly be anyone better for Mione…"

"Thanks, Harry."

"I see what you mean though…and I'm glad for your support. It's just…sometimes I get so worried. Draco and I have so many obligations, and things were so great when we were in school…so simple. I'm terrified something will go wrong and we'll end up hating each other again…"

Ron placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Harry, you can't think like that. If you get so caught up in the 'what if's you miss all the 'right now's. I mean…what is life if not a string of moments, one after another until we die? And then…when that happens…what will you have to take with you if all your plans were for a year, a day, even a second later?"

Harry blinked and made a mental note that Ron became oddly insightful when drinking. 

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I'll miss you mate."

Without words, Harry embraced his best friend whose humor, temper, loyalty and mysteriously ingenious moments had guided him through so many years. When he finished, he stood.

"I'm going to head home…I've still got packing to do."

"Alright. Hey Harry, what's your New Years resolution?"

Harry smiled. "I'm not sure…I'll have to think on it. Tell Mione I'll miss her."

With another warm smile, Harry headed inside to say his goodbyes to everyone and floo home.

************************************************

With a pop Draco was back in his flat, and glad to be home. It bothered him a bit that it was New Years Eve and he was sitting at home, alone. However, he was unable to bring himself to attend any other functions as the holidays had worn him down. Had this been any other year, his flat would have been filled with fabulous people – all of whom were sure to feed his ego. But Draco was different now, and when he looked back on his life…his ego seemed of minimal importance. 

Deciding not to let himself get too down, he turned on his muggle stereo and crossed to his bar. He made himself a drink and thought over his New Years Resolution. 

He had already accomplished most of what he wanted to, and Harry was on his own now. He couldn't think of anything he really felt he needed to do, and so he went with the time honored tradition of telling himself that tomorrow, he would quit smoking – tomorrow being the operative word. 

**************************************************

Ron had just made his way back inside the house. He was a little sad, having said goodbye to his friend. He knew he would see Harry again; he just wasn't sure how many months would pass before their paths would cross. He missed Hermione. Although he had infinite respect for his girlfriend's fierce work ethic, he couldn't help but wish that he had been more important. 

He had just decided to forgo the midnight celebrations and simply go to bed when the sound of someone flooing in caught his attention. He raced to the fireplace and when Hermione stepped out and brushed herself off, he brightened immediately and swept her up – both of them laughing. 

_'New Years Resolution'_ he thought _'Trust Hermione…because she'll never let me down…'_

**************************************************

Harry came tumbling out of his fireplace and looked around his home. He had really gotten used to the flat – it was, after all, the only home of his own he'd ever had. He had enough money to keep it while he was gone, and knew it would be here for him when he got back…still, it saddened him to leave. 

Ron's words bounced about in his brain, and although Harry found them true, he could not find the courage to simply throw caution to the wind. It was ironic, he thought, that the 'brave and noble Boy Who Lived' who had faced countless dangers and Voldemort himself was afraid of one blonde Slytherin. 

With plenty of time until midnight, and needing to clear his head, Harry decided he would go for a walk. Ron was right…winter did feel clean, and breathing the sharp, cool air always helped Harry set his mind right. 

When he stepped out onto the street, he was met with several groups of friends, or couples – walking (or stumbling) hand in hand from pub to pub. He pulled his coat around him and began a steady pace – where he was headed he didn't know. 

He had been walking for about half an hour when finally his fingers protested from the cold and refused to work. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to warm them and felt his fingertips brush against something. 

_'Oh yes'_ he thought _'Hermione's card.'_

Harry stopped for a moment and leaned against an old building, his numbed fingers fumbling with the envelope as he tried to open it. Behind his head and through the layer of brick, he could hear the chorus of people inside the pub he'd chosen as his rest stop. They were singing some Irish drinking song and Harry could feel the warmth of their sociability all the way outside. 

Finally, he got the card open. Unlike Fred's prediction, there was no shrunken book – merely a card. He opened it and smiled when he recognized Hermione's hand writing. As his eyes ran over the words, Harry felt a tear slip down one cheek, warm and salty. Immediately the air hit the wetness on his face and chilled him – but Harry didn't care. Changing his direction, he took off in a run. 

_'Thanks Hermione…New Years Resolution decided…'_

*******************************************************

Michael looked around the crowded club he had chosen to celebrate at. He couldn't deny that he would rather have been with Draco, but the words he had spoken to the blonde rung true. If he were to be next to him when midnight struck, he would most likely have been fired for attacking the Slytherin – with his tongue. 

He ordered another drink and leaned back against the bar, taking the scenery when an attractive young man bounded up next to him, ordering a beer. The boy was not as tall as Draco, but he was not short either. Michael started at his waist and let his eyes journey upwards. He obviously was an athlete of some sort, with well trained and well defined muscles. He looked groomed and from what Michael could hear he had a faint Scottish accent. His jaw was chiseled and somewhat delicate, leading to sculpted cheekbones. Finally, Michael got to his hair – blonde. Not platinum, but more a sandy color and tousled but not so much as to look messy. Just as he turned away, the young man's voice carried over the music to him. 

"Hey, can I buy you another round?"

"I suppose" Michael lazily drawled back, sounding uninterested. 

Undeterred, the young man moved closer to him. "I'm Shane. What's your name?"

Shane extended his hand and Michael took it. "Michael."

"So, what's your resolution, Michael?"

Michael turned and quirked a brow. "No more blondes."

The other young man smiled brightly. "That's a shame. You look just like this fellow I used to ogle in one of the local art galleries."

His interest piqued, Michael gave in and moved a bit closer. "Oh?"

Taking in the roar of the music, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the painfully cute young man next to him, Michael had a thought. 

_'Perhaps this single life of mine isn't so very bad after all…'_

*****************************************************

New Years Day was less than a minute away and Draco sat on his couch, his eyes focused on the clock. Alone and with no one to judge him, he debated internally on whether or not his pillow could be considered attractive enough to kiss when midnight struck. 

…….10…….

The countdown had finally begun and Draco decided to hell with it and hoisted the pillow into his lap. 

........8……..

"You are a very privileged pillow, I'll have you know. People have sold their souls to kiss me."

…….6……..

A knock on his door surprised him, and he almost dropped his smooching partner on the floor. Setting the pillow aside, he rose to answer the door. 

"You wait right there." He called back to it.

…….4……..

After unlocking and opening the door, Draco's eyes went wide to find Harry Potter panting and out of breath. 

"What are y–"

……..2………

Harry looked up. "I need to use your loo."

Mr. Wellington from two flats down chose that moment to look out into the hall. He saw a disheveled boy with messy black hair had one hand propped against the door frame. He said something, but his old man's ears couldn't pick up exactly what it was. A second later, a pale hand extended and gripped the other boy's pants by his belt loop and yanked him inside. After that, all he could hear was the happy laughter of two people ringing in the New Year – together. 

*******************************************************

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The Burrow was filled with cheers, hugs and kisses. The twins averted their eyes with a grimace as Arthur slid an arm around Molly and pulled her close. Bill's date had gotten sick in the bathroom and, sadly, he missed out on his kiss. 

Ron tilted Hermione's chin upward and smiled when he met her eyes. As perfectly mismatched as they were, both had the same thought. 

_'I think that this will definitely be a happy new year.'_

*******************************************************

Michael hadn't even noticed the countdown, engrossed in conversation with his new companion, Shane. When the lights in the club went wild and ungodly amounts of confetti came pouring down on top of them, Michael, ever the alpha male, gripped the young man's chin possessively and pulled him in. When the kiss broke, Shane seemed a bit dazed and it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. When he did, he smiled his thousand watt smile.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

********************************************************

Draco, eyes wide and threatening to tear, wrapped his fingers through Harry's belt loop and yanked him inside. Harry almost fell over from the force of it, but instead fell into Draco, who kissed him soundly, wrapping his fingers into his hair. 

Step by fumbling step they moved away from the now closed door, never breaking the kiss. Harry's hands slid down Draco's torso, slipping under his shirt to feel his skin – even softer than he had remembered. Although Draco loved the feel of Harry's silken, messy hair under his palms, he relocated his hands to the other boy's front, unbuttoning his coat. 

Finally, he was able to slip the coat from Harry's shoulders and it fell, forgotten on the floor. Draco felt Harry's fingers work their way up his sides, lifting his shirt, and he raised his arms to allow its dismissal. With his shirt off, soon Harry's lips found their way to his throat, one hand behind his head, bracing him. He felt soft, yet urgent kisses along his collar bone, his chest, his shoulders. 

Feeling his knees give way beneath him, Draco sank down to the floor, bringing Harry with him. They were behind the sofa, sprawled across the floor – and if it were not for the difference in their skin tones, one might not have been able to tell where Draco ended, and Harry began.

Removing the rest of their clothes, piece by piece and encircled by fleeting and salacious whispers, Harry couldn't tell which voice was his and which kisses he gave or received.

                                                "…love…"

"…missed…"

                                                                "…please…"

"…love…"

                "…leave…"

                                                "…never…"

                                                                                                "…need…"

                "…thank…"

                                                "…dream…"

"…love…"

He ran his nose along the smooth lines of a pale neck – the most eloquent he'd ever seen – and wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders to pull him up into a sitting position. Untangling their legs just long enough to intertwine them again, he straddled Draco's hips, his tanned legs wrapped about his lover's slim alabaster waist. 

Nails raked across skin and lips laid claim to places never kissed before. Draco had never felt so owned nor connected in his life. Harry kissed between his fingers, the inside of his elbow, his eyelids, ears, chin, soul. 

Tonight there was no blue, nor red glow – no tears or words of comfort. And when the blue black of night turned into the pale pink of morning two twin flames, wise beyond their years, lay together in the most peaceful sleep of their lives.

********************************************************

Morning light crept in and Hermione noticed with a great fondness how very beautiful Ron's red hair shone when lit by the rays of the sun. She reached out her hand to brush a lock away from his face and he stirred, smiling at her. 

"Happy New Year."

She was silent for a moment, then "Marry me."

Ron was definitely awake now. "What? Aren't I supposed to ask you that?"

"Ron Weasley, if I left everything up to you we'd never get *anywhere*. So, what is it then?"

Laughing and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ron flopped back down onto the bed. "Then yes…as long as I don't have to be Mr. Granger…"

***************************************************

Michael smirked at his unknowing model. He hadn't really planned on painting so early in the morning, naked under a smock, but his bed mate looked so very interesting with one leg thrown out from under the covers and one arm raised above his head. 

Already, this was shaping up to be a fantastic painting.

**************************************************

Draco awoke to two green pools of light staring at him. Closing his eyes again, he stretched and smiled. 

"I think you missed your plane."

Harry kissed his forehead. "I think so."

"What made you change your mind?"

Harry leaned across Draco to dig into his coat pocket where it had been so carelessly discarded the night before. Pulling out the card Hermione had given him, he handed it to Draco. 

_Harry, _

_We'll miss you so much while you're gone. I want you to know that you are a good man, and I am so very proud of all you have become. Whatever helped you get here – I think it's worth keeping._

_Hermione_

"Harry, that's nice…but I still don't get it."

"No…look at the other side."

Draco looked to the other side of the card…it was a quote.

_After awhile you learn  
the subtle difference between  
holding a hand and chaining a soul  
and you learn that love doesn't mean possession  
and company doesn't mean security.  
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts  
and presents aren't promises and you begin to accept  
your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead  
with the grace of an adult not the grief of a child.  
And you learn to build your roads today  
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans  
and futures have ways of falling down in mid-flight.  
After awhile you learn that even sunshine  
burns if you get too much so you plant your  
own garden and decorate your own soul  
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.  
And you learn that you really can endure  
that you really are strong  
and you really do have worth  
and you learn  
and you learn...  
**  
Veronica A. Shoffstall**_

As Draco finished reading, he felt warm, familiar lips – each kiss followed by a soft, almost inaudible "love you" – along his jaw, his face, his neck – everywhere. 

Setting the card aside, Draco's soft and determined fingers – the fingers of a man, not long ago a boy – found their way into ink black hair…where they belonged. 

"Words to live by…I think."

Harry nodded and all was lost to the quiet serenity of a new year.

************************************************

THE END.

Waaaaaaa. *points up* so cute. 

I hope you liked it, and I'm sorry it was so long. I told you to trust me, didn't I?

Anyways…if you're interested. This is the summary for the next HP fic in line. (Still untitled)

An AU fic, what if Hogwarts never existed, what if wizards had no organizations, what if muggle borns had to figure things out for themselves? Set in muggle college, Harry Potter, orphaned after the mysterious death of his parents and left with a strange scar always knew he was different. In spite of his horrible relatives, he works hard and gets into a prestigious college. Enter Draco Malfoy, arrogant, spoiled and an all around prat. Draco, being a pure blooded wizard and trained by his family, notices Harry's talents and offers his hand – Harry refuses. Soon, however, strange occurrences and nightmares force Harry to reconsider. The two form an unlikely love/hate relationship. All too soon, the dark wizard that killed Harry's parents comes back and they have to find others of their kind, organizing for the first time before their world is destroyed completely. Will be H/D slash…just not right away. 

THANK YOU again for reading!

Love and Kisses, 

Reika


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